Existing in fantasy

The days continue to roll by. The sun remains too bright and the temperature too high for an October, but I’m sure some are enjoying it. Sadly, this means my eyes keep getting hurt by the neon panels that are my curtained-windows, and the noise volume from my scally neighbours is piercing. Only mad dogs and Englishmen, as they say.

And Englishwomen, of course.

I’ve mostly been in an alcoholic daze for the past week, not being able to find a reason to sober up. Once I do, I ask myself: “Uh, so now what?!”. Which I never have an answer to, so I just go back to drinking. Support groups ask too much work from me, which they don’t seem to realise is why I’m contacting them. I’m a low-functioning drunk who can’t deal with life, so please don’t ask me to deal with life. It’s almost like they don’t understand the mind of a boozer.

At least I can open up here, without having to honour an appointment across town.

The recycling continues to pile up around my flat, so I’ll need to find a handyperson to dispose of it for me. The council does seem to be trying out a bulk collection scheme though, so I’ll look into that too. I’m visually impaired with low mobility, so I can’t do much to move crap around. I certainly can’t be seen to be moving crap around. Juggling a white cane whilst hauling garbage is very tricky, even at the best of times.

Through it all though, I mange to write the odd blog article for here and The Whittling Post. I wrote and posted another erotic short story, which you can find here. It’s a heterosexual tale this time, although some may argue it’s actually bisexual. Basically, there’s not enough sex directly involving women for men to enjoy, but it’s possibly too graphic for women to enjoy. I dunno, I haven’t read any other erotica written for women, I just know what men enjoy. My stories are usually quite emotional, after which the reader should be crying out of their eyes, as well as from between their legs.

I never get feedback, so I am unable to tell for sure.

It was nice and cloudy earlier, with a bit of glorious rain, but the sun appears to be fighting back. I’m having to peg-up bin liners to shut it out. Yes, folks, my home looks like the creepy den of a serial killer. Sigh. Dignity. Always dignity!

My cooking adventures have fallen by the wayside, due to my heavy drinking. I exist on prosciutto and olives and cheese. Truly a Mediterranean diet indeed! It’s just a shame I can’t recline in the garden of a French villa to enjoy them. I’m also regularly consuming microwave cheeseburgers, which is pretty tragic. For some reason, even the fanciest fresh patties, made from premium cuts of meat, leave me cold. Crappy ready meal and takeaway ones are just divine. Why is that?! It’s often the simple things in life, I guess.

The estate sounds like a building site today. There’s jackhammers and all sorts beavering away at… something. It’s not the place to live if you value peace and quiet.

No contact from anyone, as usual. I have scared the world off, it seems. I made an appointment for my belated diabetes review, but that isn’t for a month and a half. Again, the waiting room is usually empty when I’m in there, with nurses skipping about the place or idly chatting, seemingly with nothing to do. Where are all the appointments?! Something weird is going on, for sure. Perhaps the surgery is covertly being run just to pay the admin and healthcare staff, rather than to treat patients.

We are no longer the customer. We are the product.

Well, on that paranoid note, I shall let you get along. I haven’t bathed in two days, so I need to go scrub off the filth. Not that I’ve gone anywhere in order to generate sweat and pick up dirt.

I’ve just been existing.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Still alive

I greet you as I await a shopping delivery, which is apparently 3 stop away. It’s a boozy order, as I have little to no interest in being sober at the moment. I’m not feeling self-destructive, per se, I’m just, erm, not not feeling self-destructive. If that makes any sense.

I’m not inclined to look after myself, basically.

Saying that, I did fight a hangover in order to write one of my erotic short stories in the middle of the night. I’m quite proud of it, which you can find here. It took me about 5 hours to get done, including proof reading it. I do tend to lose track of time when I’m horny and creative!

My fasting didn’t get rid of my mysterious ailment, so I’m gonna go ahead and assume going back on my diabetes medication will sort it out. I just need to get my arse into gear and go see the nurse for my check-up.

1 stop away. I best put on some pants.

Autumn is trying to take hold, but the sun keeps fighting back. Bah! I can’t wait until it properly sets in. Still, the street has gotten a lot quieter, although the much-hated local off-road biker is still doing his noisy rounds. I assume it’s a “he”, as women are usually more conscientious than that.

I don’t have much else to report. There’s not been much contact from people. I get the odd text from my friend “Lesbo Lisa”, although she’s suddenly gone quiet again. I really should write about her life, as it’s clearly far more interesting than mine.

Right, I best go stand ready at the door. I think I can hear the delivery person unpacking their van.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Snap

Well, after 2 days 20 hours of fasting, in a misguided attempt to starve a suspected bacterial infection, I’ve finally snapped and started feeding and watering myself again. The weather didn’t help, with the summer coming back for one last day of torment a day before the official start of autumn.

Sweet, cold, beautiful autumn!

I believe I was made for a colder climate. Quite literally, actually, as I’m genuinely thick-skinned. Not emotionally, of course. My dad tends to overheat easily too, so perhaps it has something to do with my Canadian heritage. If I wasn’t so visually impaired, and if I was more practical and confident, I think I would have made a good farmer. I’m a real morning person too, so that would have been an advantage. Plus I don’t get along with people very well, so a life of isolation amongst cattle would suit me perfectly.

Maybe in the next life, huh?

I’m actually planning a short story about a lonely young farmer who finds platonic companionship in the form of a wayward boy from the nearby town. I feel as though I should at least read one book on farming for research though, but the below RiffTrax video is a light-hearted start. I still need to crack on with researching botany for one of my serialised stories, but that one’s stalled at the moment.

Inspiration is just lacking.

I keep amending tomorrow’s supermarket delivery. Sometimes it’s mostly food. Sometimes it’s mostly booze. It depends on what mood I’m in, which tends to bounce around thanks to my cyclothymia. It’s currently mostly booze, since the food-heavy version was meant to coincide with ending my fasting period. I’ve already done that now, so fuck it. Booze it is! I’ve frigging earned it.

My new neighbour was drilling into our adjoining wall earlier, which freaked me out. I hope he’s not putting up speakers to turn his flat into a nightclub. That would be just my luck! He’s probably just putting up pictures or shelving though. Or chains to turn his bedroom into a sex dungeon. Nothing would surprise me around here! He’s still kicking in the building’s main door downstairs, so maybe I’ll slip my spare entry fob through his letterbox. I just can’t see how that won’t come across as passive-aggressive though, like “Crazy Bin Lady” creepily returning stuff I throw out.

Golly, it’s weird having caffeine in my system again after nearly 3 days! I do not function well without it.

Righty-ho, I best go figure out how to make food again. I’ve got a Chinese takeaway curry defrosting on the counter, so I’ve got that to look forward to. I’ll probably serve it with some brown rice, which goes well with Chinese entrees.

Do stay in touch, city folk.

Toodles!

Fasting fun!

I kid, of course. This is no fun whatsoever. I’m officially 2 days 3 hours into fasting, in an unwise attempt to rid my body of a suspected bacterial infection. The same thing worked earlier on in the year, so I’m hoping a repeat of my behaviour will end this ongoing agony.

These goings on leave me with not much to report, as food and drink is very much at the heart of my usual lifestyle. Good grief is starving yourself of food and water boring! I’ve got a grocery order coming Wednesday morning, chock with booze, so I’ll end this silliness then. Unless I’ve slipped into a diabetic coma by then, in which case, erm, I dunno.

I honestly don’t seem like the type to do so though.

My new neighbour has started acting like a prick, as they all do. This has come in the form of him kicking the building’s main door open to gain access, rather than simply placing the fob the council will have given him delicately against the entrance panel. He’s either kicking in the door because a) he’s lost his fob b) he wants to show physical dominance to his new neighbours or c) delicate movements aren’t masculine enough for him. Sigh. Either way, he’s doing it every morning at 5 am, which everyone on the fucking street could really do without.

“Obnoxious Camp Guy” has been quieter since taking his loud behaviour too far a week ago. Did I mention this? I can’t remember. Anyway, he’d lost the ability to use words, so was just screaming for hours and hours and hours. I’ve actually started feeling sorry for him now, rather than being annoyed by him. Clearly there’s something wrong there. I mean, that’s not healthy behaviour. I have heard him occasionally since, but it’s not gotten as bad as the screaming incident.

I’m keeping my spirits buoyant with classic MST3K, which is always good for the soul. I’ve also watched a little Keith Floyd, but cooking shows are, as you can imagine, a terrible thing to watch when you’re avoiding food. Don’t worry, I get by on my looks. Ha! Keith just makes me feel less of an outcast in this vicious world, as he was an outcast too. Everyone hated him, from his colleagues to his friends to his family to his fans. I can relate. He just wanted to live his life the way he wanted to live it, which tends to piss people off no end.

My annual boiler inspection by the council is coming up next week, although I may rearrange the appointment. It all depends on what state I’ll be in after breaking this fasting period. Glug, glug, glug. I’ll need a month or so to clear the alcoholic paraphernalia from my kitchen.

Well, I shall leave things there. The hunger and thirst is nowhere near as bad as the mysterious pain, so this is actually easier than it has been in the past. Perhaps it’s also easier because I know I’ll be ending the behaviour soon, rather than using it for morbid ends.

Good times.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Grasping at harmful straws

The agony continues, which I have now had enough of. A disinterested nurse was unable to help, even though I kept saying I was in constant pain. So, what now? Well, the mysterious illness, possibly tonsillitis, I suffered at the start of the year brought me so low that I ended up deciding to stop feeding and watering myself. This had the unexpected effect of killing the illness. Unless it was a coincidence, of course, but I doubt that.

Anyway, I’ve chosen to try this method again. I guess it’ll either be the beginning or the end of me, but I can’t take the pain any longer.

It’d be something if all this pain was worth it, but I have nothing in my life left to fight for. I’m very lonely and very disabled. My mental illness badgers me all day every day. Things keep breaking around my home, as if they too have given up. I have bags of recycling piling up, but not the means to get rid of them. Where I live is like a madhouse, with lunatics screaming nonsense at invisible persecutors and people fighting in the street.

And here I sit, tears streaming down my face, no longer able to bear much more of it.

The tonsillitis subsided after a few days of fasting, so let’s hope the same works with whatever this is. I no longer have any fresh food in the kitchen, so I won’t have that to get anxious about. I’ve put in a grocery order, but I’ll probably push the delivery date back a few days. I just need a spit cup in each room now, as I obviously won’t be able to drink water in order to clear my throat. I learned that from the last time. Who knows, maybe the dizziness from an empty tummy will help me get a good night’s sleep.

For a change.

Being diabetic, I suppose doing this could always put me in a coma, but that’s the sort of merciful thing that only happens to other people. My body likes to torture me in the worst of ways. Not that I hold the paranoid believe that it has its own sentience or anything.

Well, I’ll try and keep you updated, if the pain cools off enough for me to type words.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles

Satisfaction and disappointment

It’s been a boozy few days since my last post, but that’s what “self-medicating” is sadly all about. I went and saw a nurse at my local surgery, but she was of no help. She couldn’t see anything wrong with me, so assumed I was mad. I begged her for more help, as I was and still am in agony, but she made light of it all. She acknowledged the presence of a mysterious mole on my back, which I told her was new and bled if I scratched it, but she dismissed that as well. She muttered what she was typing into my computer records, but what she muttered didn’t sound like anything I was telling her. She sent me away and I continued drinking, as there was nothing else for me to do.

By the way, for a medical institution with all its GP appointments apparently all taken, the waiting room was fucking empty for the half-hour I was sat there.

Where are all the patients?!

So, yes, I’ve not been in the best of moods since then. I’m fed up of being drunk, so I’m going for a sober day today. We shall see how long that lasts. The only thing keeping be cheery is YouTube, both old episodes of MST3K and foreign family films. I like foreign films, because I can hear people talking without having to understand what they’re saying. It’s like being a baby again, or floating underwater. I swear I was a member of the marine community in a former life.

A whale, knowing my luck.

My friend “Lesbo Lisa” has gone quiet on me again, although she does have an actual life to be getting on with. “The Whistler” in the flat below me has gone quiet too, so know psychotic rantings out his windows in a week. I can hear him pottering about, but the scary tantrums have stopped. Who knows, maybe he’s been put on stronger antipsychotic medication. “Loud Phone Lady” on one side of me has been shouting at her silent pet a lot, so goodness knows why she has the damn thing. I do not know what species it is. The new neighbour on the other side of me, I haven’t given him a nickname yet, comes and goes, but he is generally very quiet. I think I’ll keep him! “Barking Dog Man” had someone banging on his door for ages yesterday, but either he’s keeping a low profile or simply wasn’t in. He’s an unpleasant womaniser, so I suspect it was one of his new “projects” about to be discarded. I’m sure they’ll all form a skanky army soon enough to gang up on him.

The temperature is up and down, but never hot enough to be unpleasant. The sun is very bright this evening, however, so I’m looking forward to the peaceful night. I find it too painful to wear tops indoors, so goodness knows how I’ll get around that in the height of winter. Maybe I’ll wear a wooden hat, therefore keeping all my body heat in.

My libido has returned, so developing fantasies is keeping me busy. My ejaculation ritual at the moment involves sitting cross-legged on my bed and squirting onto a retired hand-towel. Sometimes I lie on my back and do it onto my tummy. Sometimes into a spent kitchen paper tube. Sometimes a plastic tumbler. I stopped using an old sock years ago, as the fabric of the sock would be uncomfortable after I’d reached orgasm.

What do you use to catch your sticky sex fluids?

Hopefully I’ll get some hobby stuff done today, as being drunk all the time isn’t conducive to thoughtful activity. I’m currently getting up at around 4 pm, so the pain of the light doesn’t last too-too long.

I still haven’t sorted out a new television, so I’ll see if that local appliance shop’s website is working properly later. My old LG set really does struggle with modern HD, so it’s hit and miss what I’m able to watch. The just-broken set, that’s currently sat on the floor, is starting to get in the way.

Well, I shall leave things there and wish you all the best.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Business as usual and unusual business

Well, I’ve calmed down a bit since my last post, but I’m still baffled why I didn’t get more than 24-hours notice for a weekend meet-up. I guess I dodged a bullet in not going, as manoeuvring around town is a nightmare at the weekend. All the worst people are out and about who don’t mind stealing taxis off disabled people. A woman once chased the one I was in down a busy street, even though it was the afternoon when plenty of taxis are about. Idiot. I hardly leave my home anymore, but I certainly avoid weekends, as a rule.

Bless the cooler weather, but curse the sunshine! There’s a nice breeze and temperatures conducive to doing, well, anything, but the sun is brighter than it’s ever been. Has there been a change in its makeup or something? I don’t remember it ever being this bright before. I shouldn’t have to walk around wearing a peaked-cap indoors.

I’ve been drinking heavily due to my mysterious illness. “Lesbo Lisa” has recommended calling 111, as I just can’t get an appointment with my GP. The receptionist seems to find pleasure in telling me that, even with an appointment, I still won’t be able to see a doctor until next month. Sigh. I wouldn’t want the NHS replaced, but it certainly can do better. Booze-wise, I’ve been sticking to beer, since either the white wine or cider kept making me constipated. Now the, erm, “spice” flows naturally, which is a relief.

I like pooping, so don’t enjoy it being an ordeal.

I’ve had some discs delivered for a potential movie marathon, this one about A-list flops from the 80s and 90s. Thought that’d be fun. I’ve also had the original Shaft trilogy delivered, which could also become a marathon. I can’t believe they’ve tried rebooting it again recently, even with the same title as the last one. Cue everyone being confused when trying to buy one of the three films now out there simply called: “Shaft”.

I’ve been watching a lot of Russian family films on YouTube, which are cheering me up. I don’t speak a word of Russian, but I get the idea of what’s going on. Some of the videos are standalone movies, but some are miniseries that the uploader has “top and tailed”, so you don’t have to sit through the opening titles and closing credits continuously. I heartily approve of this! Most of them are on this channel and this channel, so do give them some love.

Someone knocked on my door earlier, but I just ignored it. It’s usually someone selling an energy supply or religion at that time of day. I certainly wasn’t expecting any deliveries or guests. They did persist though, not just leaving after the first knock. Hmm. If it was that important then surely they’d have left a note or tried to call me. But they didn’t. So there. I could really do without mysterious visitors pestering me when I’m lying in bed in pain and hungover.

There’s not much in the kitchen to eat, so I’ll try and put in a shopping order later. Booze included. It’s a pain-in-the-arse having to use my can crusher over and over again, but at least it’s better than a literal pain-in-the-arse in terms of bowel movements. Ha! Word play.

I’ve still not ordered that new television, as I’m waiting for the shop’s website to sort itself out. I hope it isn’t to do with my laptop, which has been acting weird lately. I even tried ordering a takeaway Saturday night, but both restaurant sites I tried seemed to think it was Tuesday and wouldn’t offer me service. Maybe I tried ordering too late in the evening, but you’d think they’d be keen for business on a Saturday. Very strange indeed!

Well, I shall leave it there and go do some can crushing.

This is my life right now.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!