Bedtime for an insomniac

I’m struggling a bit with sobriety this morning AKA this evening. As mentioned previously, I’ve upturned my sleep pattern, so I’m due to go to bed around 11 am today. If I’m to stay awake to order a takeaway later, then I’ll probably need to drink, which just demonstrates how balanced my diet/sanity is.

Good grief.

I’ve just washed my system of perspiration towels, which are exactly what they sound like. They’ve been working hard during the UK’s recent mega-heatwave. I just couldn’t take the stench anymore. I’m glad I’ve finally gotten round to doing it and am feeling more positive for doing a little housework.

It’s almost as if activity stops you from feeling worthless or something.

I’m not feeling as tired as I should for having been awake for 12 hours, so I’ll stick to my hobby corner watching old episodes of MST3K and doing the odd bit of gaming. Things have cooled off enough now that I can play more than one race in GTA Online without my console overheating. Which is always a plus. I’ve also started watching Fist of Fury, so I need to be getting along with that asap.

I’ve been considering having my face scanned by my adult website of choice for this grotesque new privacy-invading age verification law in the UK. To someone like me, who has a phobia of being looked at, it will surely be like a stranger walking up to me in the street and running their smelly hand down my face, then whispering: “I’ll remember you!”. Yikes. I know I will feel violated, and I blame my government for that.

Still, I do miss the videos I used to wank over before the law was put in place.

I mean, really miss.

Thankfully, I have a good imagination, so it hasn’t been all that insufferable. I’ve also turned my frustration into art with my series of erotic short stories, which do tend to get loads of views over at The Whittling Post.

The bin men have done their rounds, so I suppose I should probably go throw something out soon. There’s a disturbed woman, henceforth referred to as: “Crazy Bin Lady”, on the ground floor who seems to have nominated herself “wheelie bin monitor”, even though it’s communal housing for which there are council wardens who go around doing that job. I tend to leave it a day or two for her to go about her pathetic business before I add to her perceived problems.

I’m very creeped out by her returning stuff I’ve thrown out because she doesn’t approve of it. Just the fact that she knows I’m the one who’s put it down there is bad enough!

3 of the most important rules of life:

Don’t eat yellow snow.

Don’t answer the phone if it rings around dinnertime.

Don’t go through your neighbour’s garbage.

Honestly, how fucking hard is that?!

Right, I best go give the towels on the radiators a turn. Yes, I treat them like yummy toast!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Drying out

Well, after a 2-or-3-day binge, I finally seem to have drunk myself sober. To the uninitiated, this basically means that I was indulging for so long that my body built-up a tolerance, so it stopped having much of an effect at all. I’m still a little shaky, but this should pass soon enough.

I’ve also managed to turn my sleep pattern upside-down, so I’m mercifully pottering about my hovel in the cool and peace of the night. This estate tend to get loud during the summer, as the scally (“white trash”, to my American readers) tenants noisily spill out into the street like rats at low tide in the sewer. I can now just stick on a white noise track and drown them all out as I sleep.

I contacted my telephone provider about that engineer who never turned up, but they didn’t have a particularly coherent reason as to why it happened. Or why I wasn’t graced with a courtesy text to warn me, but hey-ho. I felt the call centre agent was charmed by my easy-going nature, as I declined to file a complaint, and emotional honesty. I talk to so few people these days that customer service staff tend to experience the brunt of my self-pitying. Still, I keep hoping for an unofficial text from her asking if all is well.

Life works just like a porno, right?

Anyway, the appointment has now been rebooked blah blah blah. I have my energy company coming out this coming Monday in order to fit a smart meter. They tried this before, but apparently couldn’t gain access to some wiring box downstairs in the building. I dunno, it’ll probably happen again and the appointment will be pointless, so I’m keeping an open mind. Maybe I’ll just cancel it so not to cut into my drinking time.

I will need to tidy-up my kitchen, with all its alcoholic paraphernalia, after all.

I just heard a large vehicle manoeuvring out in the street, which may have been a fire engine. I couldn’t smell any smoke, and there wasn’t the usual gathering of nosy neighbours to watch, so maybe it was a suspected gas leak. A few weeks ago, fire personal were going from building to building trying to find… erm… something, but never did. Who knows what it was. This estate is like a bug zapper for cross-service emergency vehicles.

There’s not much food in the flat, so I’m hoping to order a takeaway later. I’ll probably go Chinese, in terms of cuisine. The rubber insulation around my fridge’s door has come loose, so it either creeps open or can’t be shut at all. I need to call the council to get them to send me out a new one. It’s pretty pathetic having to sticky-tape one’s fridge door shut, I must say.

I’ve just had my morning “toast therapy”, which is always a treat. I now use sourdough bread, which takes twice as long to brown, but it’s totally worth it! I also sprinkle some grated parmesan over the slices, which knocks the whole experience up about five notches. Fancy, huh?

I’ll be carrying on with that Bruce Lee boxset later, which I’m looking forward to. Firstly, however, I need to scrub myself off, as I have missed a day’s worth of grooming. Not a great thing to do during a heatwave! I’ve also ejaculated over my tummy a few times, so that can’t smell great either.

On that note, I shall leave you here and go run my bath.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Back open for business!

I’ve been in a journal-writing sort of mood of late. I have generally been throwing my thoughts at a pen pal, but his formulaic responses, which read like spreadsheets, have been getting me down. Since I last posted here, I’ve become something of a full-blown, full-time alcoholic, rather than the plucky “weekend warrior” of yore. However, life still goes on and I do have the odd dry patch. So to speak. Let’s see how we get along, shall we?

I’m in the midst of wet spell at the moment, but I’m hoping it won’t last too long. I’ve begun working my way through a Bruce Lee boxset, so I’d like to be getting along with that. The Big Boss, which I watched two days ago, was the first Lee film I’ve ever seen, and I was very charmed by it. More for the unintentional warmth of its atmosphere than the marital arts. Only the Chinese can make a relaxing action film!

I waited all day yesterday for a telephone engineer that never turned up, so that’s gotten me rather confused. More so. I’ll try ringing them again soon to rearrange the appointment. They were supposed to help me convert over to this dastardly new digital phone system, but hey-ho. A criminal waste of everybody’s time and money and effort, if you ask me, but I guess some government minister is making wads of cash out of it. Sigh!

Apparently the world cup is on, which would explain all the hyper-masculine shouting going on in my neighbourhood of late. And the rest of the country. There are few things more obnoxious than English football fans, I must say. But, hey, the booze is helping to drown out their jeers of whatever. One neighbour is now given to throwing empty bottles of beer from his upper-flat window to the recycling bins below, rather than taking them down quietly. World cup season is just too masculine a time to be delicate. Still, it shatters my nerves every time he does it. And, yes, I’m assuming it’s a “he”.

I’ve got a boozy shopping order coming later. The heat and alcohol is sapping my appetite somewhat, but I suppose that’s no bad thing. The kitchen is getting a little messy, but I’m sure I’ll sort it out once I’m in a more active state of mind.

I’ve started one of my erotic short stories for my other blog, The Whittling Post, but I’ve stalled on it due to hitting a rather dull scene. I need to write my way out fast! Dry scenes of domesticity aren’t generally sexy. Unless you’re really good at writing, which I of course am not.

I’m currently going through a phase of watching riff shows on YouTube, including MST3K and RiffTrax, which are keeping my spirits up. Isn’t comedy great?! I’m watching the RiffTrax version of Plan 9 from Outer Space this morning. They’re certainly good shows to watch when you’re on the bottle!

I just heard my neighbour below knocking a wire clothes hanger off a door or whatever. Bless. I do that all the time and it always feels like my life is falling apart. Not that I’m melodramatic or anything.

Well, I think that’s all for now, I shall let you get along on your sober way. I shall go about on my not-so-sober way.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Stacking chairs on tables

I just managed to fall asleep not long after going to bed proper, but sadly my body woke me up after only a couple of hours. I’d been up for at least 12 hours prior to, so I’m not sure why I was pulled out so soon. I’m wondering whether to make some coffee, but caffeine might not be the best thing for me right now.

My anxiety has increased this evening. I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything again. I’m also feeling rather tearful, what with Asteroid City, an emotional film steeped in themes of loss and loneliness, affecting me greatly. I had a cry towards the end, especially during the balcony back-and-forth. It made me imagine the spirit of my ex saying to me “I’m not coming back, James”. Even now, I’m brought to tears.

I keep thinking how it’s sod’s law that I’m not able to buy booze in when I’m feeling so low, but then I remind myself that the whole reason I’m feeling low is due to this fuss with my bank and my subsequent inability to purchase anything that might “help” with a low mood. It’s a circular problem, where the only solution is patience. Sadly, patience is something I am in short supply of.

I’ve started to wonder whether my blood pressure medication is the thing shortening my temper. I almost just got into a physical altercation with a doorframe. I might try ringing my GP surgery about it tomorrow, although even a phone consultation can take weeks to book nowadays.

Perhaps going back on antidepressants is the thing, as what I’d hoped to achieve by coming off them has not come about. There was a brief lull where it seemed like my plan had worked, but not anymore.

Not anymore.

I’ve turned post comments back off. What a silly idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose any viewers I have must be either modbots, spybots, or someone with a Stephen Hawking-like physical disability, barely capable of communicating with the outside world.

Too soon?

Anyway, I might switch this whole blog to private, as writing just for myself won’t affect anything. The loneliness of this experience is beginning to weigh on me, much like everything else I attempt in life.

I guess this means you are free to consider this my last post.

Adios.

The cliff and the strawberry

I am pleased to report that I am in a better and calmer mood today. I believe I may have achieved a satisfying night of sleep, even though it was mostly experienced in short bursts. I was going to stay in bed a little longer, but an initial sense of sleep deprivation soon wore off.

I’m never sure whether or not to hyphenate “sleep deprivation”. What do you think?

I’m now watching Wes Anderson’s Asteroid City, which is as wonderful as all his movies. I loved the bit where the narrator, Bryan Cranston, accidentally interrupts a scene, subsequently apologising and exiting. I think Tom Hanks had to replace Bill Murray for some reason, although I don’t know the circumstances for this. I do hope Mr Murray is well.

I’ve played some electric guitar, which was fun. It’s nice feeling a little more active and inspired. I played that new Nashville Telecaster through a Vox emulation pedal then out my Fender Vibro Champ amplifier.

I’m pressing pause on Asteroid City a lot, which is what I tend to do whilst watching a film. I have a very short attention span and always feel like I should be doing something else, whatever task I find myself undertaking. My love making has been described as “sporadic but thorough”.

It’s a shame Wes Anderson hasn’t used Jared Gilman since Moonrise Kingdom. Sam and Suzy always remind me of me and my ex - social outcasts who eventually found each other. That’s why her passing away hurts so much. She was my soulmate.

Why did she have to go.

My old school friend has finally broken his usual weekend silence, albeit a day late. Sometimes it does take an extra day. Our conversation is as bawdy as usual. He’s not much for small talk. Neither am I.

One must discuss great matters, or none at all!

Anyway, I think I’ll have ham and egg on toast for lunch. I’ve taken a homemade dish out of the freezer for diner. I’m not sure what the dish is exactly, but I assume it’ll go well with rice or couscous. They usually do.

The weather has improved, at least visually. It’s been dark and wet these last few days, which I believe has been affecting my mood significantly.

No new debit card has arrived yet, although I am browsing for some new musical equipment to help keep my balance down.

I have money, just no means in which to use it. How can one start off the year with too many debit cards, then find themself with none?! Only this could happen to me. I best not dwell on it. Where’s my mental totem?!

Right, back to Asteroid City…

Burp.

Night noodling

It’s been about 12 hours since my rather stressful phone call with the bank. I have yet to calm down, feeling extremely anxious and restless. I’ve been able to have a few laughs throughout the day, but my usual sense of impending dread has been charged to its fullest.

I retired to bed a couple of hours ago but, of course, sleep alludes me. I’ve been listening to the Blurry Photos podcast, as I find it to be the most calming of the media at my disposal. Those silly boys really do know how to cut through the b.s. in life. I need that “energy”, now more than ever.

I’ve just gotten up to make some instant noodles. I like the Mama brand. They’re fun to build and the broth is sooo tasty. I wouldn’t usually add the included flavour sachet with cheap noodles, as they’re always horrid, but Mama’s are just divine.

I don’t think I’ll stay up longer than this little snack. I just can’t focus on anything. More DVDs arrived today, so I can do my random 80s Goldie Hawn marathon, at last. That new Wes Anderson film, Asteroid City, has turned up, which I only learned by chance had been released. It doesn’t seem than long ago since The French Dispatch came out, but I think that was help back during Covid.

I wonder if my dear departed ex is able to watch all his new films, wherever she is now.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to get maudlin about her. We just loved watching them together and always got excited when a new one came out in cinemas.

Nerds unite.

It’s still very chilly. I’ve had the heating on a few times today. I’m glad I have so many pairs of fingerless gloves secreted around the flat. I am good at losing things, after all.

I just started listening to that album William Shatner did with Ben Folds. It’s making me smile. I remember standing, stressed out, in a busy shop queue years and years ago thinking “Surely nothing can make this experience any worse”, then one of the songs from this album came on the PA. I was all like “Yep, that’ll do it, good call”.

Anyway, I thought writing down a few words might help calm me down a little more. Perhaps screaming into a pillow for half an hour or so might help also.

Right, time for noodles.

Burp.

Further adventures in call waiting

Well, I finally managed to get through to the bank for the third time. It turns out that, yes, the person I spoke to last week made a mistake and cancelled the wrong card and, even though I was somehow able to use it briefly over the weekend, my old card has also been cancelled. I discovered the latter late last night as I tried to put a supermarket order in, hence my rather downbeat post. So, basically, I sit here now, with no active debit cards at all, unable to order in… well… anything. Life, huh? The bank has now apparently issued me a completely new card to wipe the slate clean, but I shall remain skeptical.

This farce would be funny, were it not for my body-shattering anxiety.

I also can’t keep my bank balance down, which may cause additional problems. I may have to call the local blind society for some admin advice, which they offer to clients.

I managed to be polite over the phone, as I do generally have a long fuse. Bank staff, like the emergency services, work at the coalface of human misery, and I have no desire to make things worse for them. Even if they do fuck my life up and kick me closer and closer and closer to the edge.

Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean.

Fortunately, I do have some supplies in the flat, so I shan’t starve. I think that would take me a good while anyway. The person I spoke to on the phone suggested getting a friend to buy stuff in for me, but I just said I didn’t have friends. That was kind of a low point for me.

So now all I can do is just sit here and wait to be shat on once again.

I wonder how long it will take.

I’m sure life has plenty planned for me.

I think I’ll instigate a “Chatty Tuesday” (I know it’s Monday) and unlock post comments, should anyone out there in the abyss have any positive thoughts to keep me buoyant. I’ll close the comments again on Wednesday.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!