Worrying in a Winter Wonderland, Part Two

Well, here’s the rather belated second half of my report on my isolated winter “adventures”. If you can wrap your brain around the concept – yes, I did snap and break into my booze store early. Hence the delay in posting. I was pretty bombed for four days straight over the cursed Christmas period. I wasn’t doing too badly beforehand, then I made the mistake of calling mother on the 25^th. This led me to drink and watching The Shining and Gladiator, instead of cooking my planned curry and saving the booze for New Year’s Eve. I remember a surprising amount from that evening actually and, to be honest, I did quite enjoy myself. It’s hard not to when you’re three sheets to the wind.

Surprisingly, I woke up on Christmas Day with a text from my old gaming buddy. If you remember, I decided to break contact with him months and months ago, but I was still touched by him caring enough to drop me a line. Nothing seems to bother him which, in turn, slightly bothers me. So, basically, he doesn’t seem permanently offended by my recent silence and unfriending. I felt it’d be far too hard and rude of me not to reply, which I did, and we’ve been in sparse contact ever since. I’m sure it’d be over by now, had I not been so “merry” over the past week. Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to see how things go.

I’m still in touch with my old guitar guru, although chat is generally limited to music playing and tech. We’ve never been that great at deeper stuff, and he generally avoids drink. He said, in passing, that he might head up to Sheffield in the New Year to hang out. I’m not sure why, or what’s inspired this, but I’m assuming he has guitar tech business to undertake around here, and that I’ll be a side visit. This is how people usually treat me. But, then again, maybe he’s genuinely interested in Me and only Me. He does seem to go out of his way to meet and help out his guitar connections. It seems to be the one and only thing he’s truly passionate about in life, besides family.

The contact I’ve had with people has helped with the cabin fever, I must say. Although, my binging hasn’t helped, of course; plus the weather has been truly miserable. I’ve also run out of antidepressants, so that’ll be affecting me very soon. If not already. I’ll try to pop out tomorrow to finally post my prescription. Again, the poor weather has kept me inside. And hangovers. And just general poor sleep pattern.

Oh yes, the sleep pattern is still weird. I’m not getting to sleep until around 5 am, which is no good if you have personal admin to do in the real world.

I think my bed needs another rebuild. Well, it’s more about just tightening screws and flipping the mattress, but it’s still a pain in the fucking ass. I’ll call the council in the New Year and ask for some new stuff. It’s been five years that this stuff has been plaguing my comfort. It’s time.

Well, I think I’ll call it a day there. I’m not feeling very chatty, but I just thought I’d finally give you Part Two of this downbeat epic. I can’t remember why I felt I had a whole extra post’s worth of news to update you with, but it’s clearly left my brain now.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Worrying in a Winter Wonderland, Part One

Ahoy there, folks! Yes, it’s your cuh-ray-zee blog host here! It’s time for some festive fun and… urgh… no… I can’t.

Fuck this time of year.

Fuck it right in its ass.

We’ve got two weeks of all this merry bullshit left before things go back to “normal”. If you don’t work, are single and live by yourself, things do, indeed, get pretty rough this time of year. It’s not just an excuse for chemists to sell extra razorblades.

I did sound out my ex to see what she was doing for Christmas Day, but it seems she’s going over to a couple she’s friends with for the second year in a row. Oh well. I had assumed that, even though we weren’t going out anymore, we’d still do Crimbo together to stave off the loneliness. But, as always, my assuming things seems to have been my undoing. I wasn’t going to even attempt going down to the pub, what with social distancing being put back in place and all, but I might just risk it. Again, I’m not bothered about catching anything, I just get confused and anxious over simple instructions.

I have been planning to not drink until New Year’s Eve, but that’s going to be a tough road to hoe. I bought some fancy craft and real ales from a couple of breweries, including the one that owns my regular pub, which are now sitting in a cupboard calling out to me. I’ll be good. I think. Sigh. I definitely need to go out on Wednesday for my vaccination booster, to drop off a prescription and to get some energy meter top-ups, so they’ll be safe until after then. Maybe.

I got a £50 Amazon gift card from mummy dearest, so I’m just trying to figure out what to spend that on. I best give her a call at some point to thank her. I’ve had no word from dad but, hey, why the hell would I?

The government recently realised they’d underpaid me some disability money over the past decade, so I’ve recently received a shocking lump sum back-payment in the bank. I’m talking five figures. Times three. They even said that, because it was their fault, it wouldn’t effect any of my current payments. This has confused me greatly, as I’m now not sure whether I’m exempt for life or what. The limit you can have in your bank account is £6,000, so does this mean that I can have what I have now plus £6,000 and nothing more?! Oh I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ring the Citizen’s Advice Bureau and ask. Or just “do a Brewster’s Millions” and try to spend it all in a month. Or just not thing about it, drink heavily and wait until the cops show up. It’ll just be swapping one prison cell for another. Anyway, this sudden wealth means that I can buy some of the spendier guitar equipment I’ve always wanted. I was thinking about using it to move out of this shithole but, well, there’s no guarantee I’ll like where I move to. At least this flat is in walking distance of the best pub and guitar shop in town.

Life is a queer old thing, isn’t it?

I might donate quite a bit to charity. I already give once a month to the British Humanist Association, so maybe I’ll sling a Secular Winterfest bonus their way.

I’m in fairly regular touch with my old work colleague/guitar guru, although it usually depends on whether he can be arsed. And it’s usually me who instigates conversation. Maybe I’ll just leave it for a bit. Or until I next want to drunk text people. So in a week’s time then. Or two days. He’s the only person I’ve told about this back-payment thing, and it’ll probably stay that way. Well, apart from you fine folk, that is.

I’m listening to a fair few audio history lectures at the moment. My current favourite is Bob Brier’s on Ancient Egypt. I thought I new a fair amount about the subject already, which is why it’s taken me so long to dig deeper, but it seems I was wrong. Bob’s an interesting guy who, at first, I didn’t think I would be able to stand for long. He has a thick, bordering on parody, New York accent, and an aggressive enthusiasm to boot. It’s like you’re stuck with a very chatty cabbie for hours on end. But, actually, his infection glee over his subject and very good teaching style has won me over. He’s great at general recapping from the previous lecture and reminding you about smaller details as he goes along, so I’m actually learning a lot on just the first listen. It usually takes, like, five goes for stuff to sink in with me. Maybe even more. I’ve also just started another lecture series on Mesoamerican civilisations, but the guy doing that is pretty dull. I may have to abandon it and start from scratch. I can’t quite work out whether he was just born with a dull demeanour, or whether he’s somewhere on the autism spectrum. I’m also relistening to the Chinese history one, which is great. Ken Hammond is such a sweetie-pie. I feel like my ears are being hugged when I listen to his voice.

Well, my dinner’s just come out of the oven, so I’ll call it a day for now. I’ll try and fill you in on more stuff tomorrow. I think posting over the next two weeks might be quite helpful for combatting the isolation.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

All cried out

So, yeah, I think I may need to knock drinking on the head for a bit. I’m really going crazy with it and, well, it’s not fun anymore. I like going to the pub once a week, but that one session is now turning into a week-long binge. I’d say “it’s fine, because I have nothing going on in my life”, but minor personal admin stuff does tend to be put on hold and cause issues. Actually, I need to check whether I posted my prescription on the way home on Friday as, genuinely, I can’t remember the ride home. Yup, that drunk. I think I did though, so that’s why I’m not rushing to check my satchel. I was also sending drunken voice messages to my guitar Yoda on Sunday night, which I’m sure he’s saved to play people in work. Good times. Oh well, at least I was having fun, right? I’m curious to know why I only feel complete and like myself when I’m five sheets to the wind. I guess I never had a chance in life. Everything about my body and brain seems to be against me.

Anyway, at least he’s been in touch again, which is cool. Whether he’ll stay in touch is another thing. But, hey, I clearly needed to blow off steam after my meltdown last week. And that wasn’t even about booze. Crazy, huh?! Between the meltdown and binge, I messaged him to ask if we could talk on the phone, as I really needed a friendly voice. It’s nice to know I have another confident available besides my ex and, well, you guys.

Oh yeah, that custom guitar turned out really well. I posted a couple of demo videos on my YouTube, but I don’t feel confident enough to repost them here. I’m just in that kinda mood. But, yes, it was well worth the five month wait, which is good. I’m just not sure what to do with myself now. Waiting for that guitar was keeping me going for a while.

I’m sat here waiting for a grocery delivery. I’ve started adding a few ingredients for a curry each time I put an order in, as my recipes tend to get rather expensive. Today’s the day! Or tomorrow. I might make it tomorrow. I do need a little longer to get things going.

It was my new audiobook credit day the other day, so I finally bought the complete Sherlock Holmes collection, as read by the always-fabulous Stephen Fry. My knowledge of Sherlock Holmes comes in the form of general cultural osmosis, those two Robert Downey Jnr movies, and Basil the Great Mouse Detective, so this should broaden things a bit. I also ordered a boxset of Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes films, plus the Robert Stevens-starring The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, which I hear is pretty good. I may have to buy myself a deerstalker hat and a flamboyant pipe at this rate!

That’s about as cultural as I’ve been getting, I’m afraid. It’s hard to be artsy when you’re sat in a drunken stupor. Sigh. Why isn’t my liver giving out?! It’s not like I’m not putting the effort in.

Oh, the flood on my balcony is still there, so I’m not sure how successful the repairs people have been in getting in touch with my neighbour. As mentioned in my last post, it’s them using their balcony as a refuse tip and blocking up the communal drain that’s causing the flood and subsequent leak into downstairs.

The ex and our mutual friend are trying to organise a post-lockdown meetup. We haven’t clinked champagne flutes since December 2019, so it’ll be nice to have a catch up. I think the ex’s hypochondria has been keeping her in more than usual, so we’ve been trying to work around that. I think she’s just about had all the attention she needs lavished upon her now, so she’s good to go. I know it’s “the thing” to respect and accommodate people’s quarantine choices at the moment, but I just don’t give a fuck.

Errr… yeah… so… I best go listen out for the delivery guy. I’ll try not to do the “horny housewife” thing too much, although I usually can’t help myself. Shame I’m not actually a MILF. I don’t think they have an acronym for what I am. There just aren’t enough letters in the alphabet.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

An overdue meltdown

So two competent and very lovely men from the council just turned up to do something about the flood on my balcony. Not the leak into downstairs, mind you, the actual cause of the leak. Trying to get the repairs department to think logically like that is a mammoth task. Anyway, apparently, the flat horizontally next door to mine has blocked their balcony drain up with bin bags and old newspapers etc., which is what’s causing the flood on my balcony. It’s not even my fault! I’m very pleased. Apparently there’s nothing repairs can physically do, so they’re going to have to get in touch with the general housing department and get somebody knocking on my neighbour’s door to clear their balcony. While I will probably need to do some bucketing before that ever happens, I’m just glad somebody official has looked at the problem and is taking action to resolve it. I’ve been in a state of guilt over things leaking into downstairs for weeks now. Possibly even months. I guess there’s even a life-threatening aspect to the situation because, well, water’s really fucking heavy, so it could weaken the structure of the balcony and cause a collapse. Check this space!

To be honest with you, I needed that “win”. I’ve felt worse than I’ve ever felt since yesterday afternoon. While the parcel company’s text stated whatever-it-was would be arriving between 3 pm and 4 pm, the guy didn’t turn up until 7 pm. I’m not usually petty about that sort of thing, but they are usually really accurate about delivery estimate windows, plus the value of what they were possibly delivering meant a delivery to the wrong address would be catastrophic. Well, when the guy finally arrived and brought the item up to my flat, he proceeded to complain that coming into the building and walking three flights upstairs to my property was “against all regulations” in his company, Why I would know about that, or even care, is quite beyond me. He then complained that he’d driven all the way from York just for my delivery. Again, why I would know about that, or even care, is quite beyond me. So he finally buggered off and left me with the mystery parcel which, I’m very relieved to say, was the electric guitar that I’ve been waiting for, erm, for about five months. Did I need that second “for”? Oh I dunno.

What happened next is what contributed to my spiralling mood.

I was already stressed about my balcony, stressed about the lateness of the delivery and stressed about the obnoxious delivery guy, so I thought I’d have a lie down and forget about the day. I messaged my guitar Yoda to inform him/gloat that the guitar had arrived, but that’d I’d not be opening it until the following day when I was, hopefully, in a better mood. He replied saying it might help cheer me up to open it and have a play, so I did. I then, somehow, summoned the energy to make a quick video of the guitar and upload it to YouTube. Nearly the second after it’d uploaded, my guitar Yoda messaged me to tell me that you could see my genitalia in a reflection of the guitar’s metal hardware (I don’t wear much around the house, in fact I’m completely naked now). I freaked out and deleted the video instantly, being concerned about getting into trouble for such a thing. That was embarrassing enough, and enough to pile on my stress levels. The “straw that broke the camels back”, if you will. After a bite of my Chinese takeaway… oh, I forgot to mention, my takeaway arrived a coupe of minutes after the guitar… I tried making another video, this time with me actually in the shot, fully clothed, and playing. Because I was already feeling rather self-conscious by this point, I got very upset at seeing how overweight I was in general. The low angle and harsh evening lighting probably didn’t help… but still. So I abandoned everything, watched a couple of episodes of Arrested Development in an attempt to cheer me up, then went to bed.

With my head swirling with stress and MSG, I vowed never to leave my bed again, not for food, not for water, not for medication, not even for the workmen who may or may not be turning up in the morning.

Darkness warshed over the Jim - darker'n a black steer's tookus on a moonless prairie night. There was no bottom.

This buzzing feeling of stress and self-loathing continued until the morning, when I initially awoke at 8 am. There I remained, with the Mysterious Cities of Gold (I never realised they actually find the first city of gold where the Golden Condor is, I thought it wasn’t until the end of the series, which must actually be the second city) playing in the background, until I fell asleep until 1 pm. The workmen had been due between 10 am and 12 pm, so I just rolled my eyes and assumed that either a) they hadn’t turned up or b) I slept through them gently knocking at my door, as they do. So I got up, miraculously, and sat playing a video game for a while until - shock horror! - the workmen finally buzzed my intercom two hours late, just like the delivery arsehole the night before.

Which leads me to sitting here telling you this tale.

You see, this is how depression gets you. Nothing that bad has happened in the past twenty-four hours, but I ended up lying in bed deciding to kill myself through hunger and thirst. I think I’ll miss a few antidepressants on purpose, just to try jump-starting their effect. That usually works.

The positive cheeriness of the workmen helped put me in a better rmood, which is the opposite effect workmen usually have on me. So, what now? Well, I still have that second guitar demo video on my phone, but I think I’ll leave off posting it until tomorrow when I’m in the pub. I care less of a fuck about how I look after a few pints, believe it or not. There’s nothing technically wrong with the video, or my playing, it’s just how I look in it. There’s a reason why I don’t have a single mirror anywhere in this flat.

Right, so I best go pick my life up where I left it off. I have loads of cardboard to take down to the wheelie bins (I still haven’t got rid of the stuff from my last guitar delivery) and possibly take a shower. We shall see.

I’m not sure how the rest of today will go, but fingers crossed I’m on the mend. For now.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Anxiété du jour

So it’s been less than twenty-four hours since I made my five-a-day vegetable soup, and I’m already sick of it and want to flush it all down the toilet. See, I’m no good at batch-cooking anything except curry. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll get used to it. It’s actually a very nice soup, especially considering it’s my first, but the psychological threat of having to eat so much of the same thing for days always breaks me. Even years ago at Easter, I’d get sick of chocolate the minute I had all those eggs placed in front of me. There really must be something wrong with my brain. It just shuts down whenever it’s faced with obligation.

Oh, I think that custom guitar is finally arriving today! I got a text from a parcel company earlier, which was unexpected, so I was all like “Erm, have I been ordering stuff drunk again?!”. It’s happened, much to my previous bankruptcy. Anyway, just in case the text was a phishing scam, I checked the official courier website and, yes, there’s something definitely on its way! I can’t think what anything else it could possibly be, so that’s pretty awesome. I feel like I should smarted myself up a bit, ready for its arrival. I may even order a celebratory takeaway, breaking my short-lived attempt at a health, erm, nudge.

I’ll try and make a demo vid asap, although I’m struggling to think of how to logistically do it. I need a second person, basically. Oh well.

Speaking of guitars, my regular pub is having its first ever live music night next week, so I’ve texted the ex to ask if she’s interested in going. I’m not an evening pub drinker, unless live music is involved.

I watched Once Upon a Time in Hollywood last night and this morning. Not twice, I just stopped halfway through because, as predicted, the soup-making left me in a bit of a sweaty state. Anyway, the film was good, but a little too weighed down by period detail. Sometimes it felt like I was being banged over the head with 60s culture. There was definitely a point where I sighed and said: “Yes. I get it. It’s 1969. Now tell me a story!”. I’d say that that’s a minor complaint, but it dig get on my nerves after a while. It’s a recent movie, so I’ll separate my spoiler talk with a new paragraph…

[SPOILERS]

So yeah, I think the film can be described as the third of Tarantino’s “revisionist history” movies, after Inglorious Bastards and Django Unchained. In Inglorious, the Third Reich is killed and, I assume, the Holocaust avoided. In Django, a black slave gets bloody revenge on his tormentors. Here, much to my surprise, the Tate Murders never happen, due to Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio being so awesome. This really is Brad’s movie, by the way, so that French girl-drawing douche who’s clearly trying to win another Oscar by crying a lot can go suck it. Ahem. Quentin Tarantino is clearly a very sensitive guy, and likes to fantasise about real life tragedies never happening. I would call them “alternative history” films, but they all end where the history is changed, so you don’t really see the consequences. “Revisionist” sounds more accurate. I think.

[END SPOILERS]

…aaand we’re back! So, basically, it’s a likeably meandering film with a lot of shots taken in the backseats of cars. These shots probably mean something to Los Angeles locals but, to anyone else in the world like me, they get a bit tiresome too. I like that Al Pacino seems to be playing an out-of-time (musical pun unintended) Martin Scorsese. Pacino always seems like the sweetest guy, which is why it’s quite rare for him to play villains. His niceness always shines through. I guess he was good as Big Boy Caprice in Dick Tracy, but still oddly loveable. I’ll probably go to my grave not giving a flying fuck who Margot Robbie is, as she’s just kinda there in this movie but, hey, she excites nerds when she has pigtails and swings a baseball bat, so I guess that’s, erm, something.

That’s my little film review out of the way, methinks!

I’m feeling a little tense due to the bad weather and my balcony flood getting higher and higher, but I only have to wait until the council comes out in the morning. If they do actually turn up. Apparently they’ve been sued over poor repairs, which is no surprise at all. There must be some ignorant, alpha-male dope running the show. He was confident in the job interview though, which is, sadly, all that seems to matter these days. Sigh.

Oh crikey, the rain is getting so heavy! Eek!

Righty-ho, I best go make a posh, candle-lit dinner ready for my new guitar to arrive. And perhaps get some sandbags ready.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Either too much fluid... or not enough!

So my balcony is definitely filling up with water again. I’ve just managed to convince the council repairs line that my balcony flooding isn’t the same problem as water leaking into downstairs. In fact, them reflooring the balcony has only made the flooding worse. If you get me. It took some convincing, as the person on the phone line couldn’t quite understand what I was trying to convey. I should have used the example of: if a tile fell off my roof and hit my neighbour’s car, their car would be damaged, sure, but there’d also be a hole in my roof. If they get their car fixed straight away, my roof will still needs doing. The leak downstairs is the car, my balcony is the roof. Does that make sense? Yeah, I should have said that. Sigh. Anyway, she kept semi-sarcastically saying that she’ll send a bricklayer out, as they have the “sticks to poke it down the balcony”. She actually said that. I really don’t care who they send out. It could be Sooty and Sweep for all I care. I just want somebody from council repairs to look at my balcony and see how bad the flooding is. Maybe it was a bit of reverse sexism, in that she assumed that I’d be able to sort it out myself because I have a penis. How wrong she was. I’m pretty fucking useless at… well… everything. Apart from sitting still in a pub lifting a glass of beer up to my mouth. I'm pretty good at that. But, even then, I still manage to spill some down my bum crack.

Oh and I think my washing machine has finally died. The last two times I’ve tried to wash something, it’s taken a few plug-ins-and-plug-outs-and-jiggles to get it connecting to the electricity. I just tried a different outlet and, nope, the machine’s digital readout is still flickering. I have had it ten years now, and it was second hand in the first place, so it’s had a “good innings”, as they say. I’ll put a hold on buying my next guitar until I’ve ordered a replacement washing machine.

Know any good brands?

I seem to have shaken off my four-day binge completely now, and I think I’ll knock that kind of behaviour on the head for a while. I’m just getting a bit bored of it, plus it costs money. I’m not going on a health kick, but I have ordered lots of vegetables to make a soup with. I thought that’d be a good way of getting my “five a day”. So, instead of snacking on crisps, salted nuts and/or chocolate, I’ll have cold vegetable soup! I’m sure I’ll be back on the booze and ready to kill myself by the end of the week. Good times.

I’m already craving snacks. Maybe I’ll crack open a tin of chopped tomatoes. Those are usually nice as cold a snack.

My guitar Yoda emailed me. I think he saw that video I posted of the car fire outside my building and remembered I existed. I replied to his message but, again, things have gone quiet. I have no idea what’s going on there. Maybe I’ll post a video of the flood and see if that jogs his memory once again.

It feels really mild at the moment, plus the rain that’s just started is making things feel all humid. Not the kind of weather for slow-cooking soup, I must say. I’m guessing I’ll be pretty sweaty by bedtime. I was going to clean my sheets just before I started typing this but, erm, see the paragraph above.

I’ve still not opened my post, so maybe that’ll be an extra bonus problem to deal with. You know, people sending me things I have to deal with. Don’t they get that I don’t like doing anything?!

Oh, I saw the trailer for that new Matrix film. It looks like Lana’s directed it herself this time, so maybe Lilly was tired of the whole series. It kind of looks like a reboot, which wouldn’t surprise me, as pretty much everybody in the universe, even aliens who have no understanding of human behaviour, will agree that Reloaded and Revolutions were poo-pants. Well, there was that twenty minute fight and chase scene in Reloaded which was cool, but the rest was just awful. Maybe, in the years since the original trilogy, Lana has committed herself to coming up with a better story arc for a replacement trilogy. I hope so, as Reloaded and Revolutions did feel half-baked, and the return of both Neo and Smith just didn’t work. Their characters were done.

I was going to go for my shower after typing this, but I’ve bought Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, so I might start watching that first. I never look forward to watching his new films but, once I do, I’m always glad. I find the dialogue scenes more thrilling than the violence. Although I certainly don’t mind the violence. If you can make Kurt Russell and Samuel L. Jackson quietly chatting in a stagecoach the most thrilling thing in a movie where somebody’s head explodes, then you’re a pretty good writer.

Righty-ho, I best go nervously stare at my balcony, washing machine and pile of post.

Don’t wait up.

Do stay in touch.

Toodles!

A Song of Wine and Fire

Well, I did brave a trip down to the pub on Thursday, and it was still light by the time I got home, which was a bonus. I stayed long enough that my legs definitely started to get tangled up with my blind cane… and themselves. I had some nice chats with people, although one young lad kept making me self-conscious by pointing out to other people how many empty glasses were in front of me. Is nowhere safe?! I’m not sure what his deal was. Oh well. Sadly, I did end up resupplying my booze stock at home, so I’ve been in a drunken haze ever since. I’m guessing I haven’t missed much. My body is still tingling this morning, but I definitely feel on the road to temporary recovery. Good old alcohol! I wonder if I’ll feel any more or less inspired this week. Often a good binge helps reset my brain, although that would probably have happened regardless. It’s ok, I get by on my looks.

The ex wants to meet up, as it sounds like she’s been going through a rough patch too. She doesn’t drink, so her depression-triggered vice is just staying in bed. I wish mine was the same. Anyway, I think she suggested meeting up this Friday. We shall see. I haven’t seen her since our friendly Christmas get-together in December 2019, so that’ll be nice.

It hasn’t rained much here, but the clouds have stayed consistently present and heavy. I wonder what’s going on. Maybe it’ll snow. Apparently it’s going to do so somewhere in England around Halloween, so I best keep my cupboards/energy meters stocked and topped-up I’m not as into Halloween as a lot of people are these days. I guess I don’t like following trends in general. I might watch a horror film or two that evening, but I certainly don’t whittle on about it all month. I might even sacrifice a bottle of wine or three to some pagan space wizard. Crazier things have happened!

Oh, there was a fire outside last night. Fireworks have been going off around here over the weekend, so I didn’t react at first, but then a car alarm started and I could hear people shouting in an alarmed manner, so I tweaked my curtains and saw that a couple of vehicles were on fire. I assume it’s some gang-related nonsense, which has been getting worse of late. I’ve told the police I think something like that’s going on, so the ball’s in their court. Here’s my video of the event. It’s a bit long, but I do provide a running commentary:

And here’s the state the two vehicles were in this morning:

I was shocked and upset by such a violent thing happening so close to my home but, even more tragically, most of the scallies around here just seemed to find it amusing. Says it all really. Unfortunately somebody else won that £200M Euromillions jackpot on Friday, so I’m stuck here for a few more days. Sigh.

Pub?

Anyway, I best go have a shower and scrape off the last of the alcoholic sweat. Who knows what this week will bring. I definitely need to go through my post, as that’s been stacking up. Finger’s crossed there’s no bad news.

As if there won’t be.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Where the hemlock grows

I'm really struggling today. Think I may have to go out and be around people. I've just got one delivery to stay in for, so hopefully that comes sooner rather than later. I guess I'm less at risk when I'm in the pub getting slowly drunker and drunker. It's all I'm really good for. It distracts the poisonous areas of my mind for a few more days. Just a few more days.

It's so quiet around here.

A Severe Banging's Revenge

I’m just waiting for the pan to heat up so I can fry some burgers, so I thought I’d jot a few words down.

I’m feeling a little more upbeat than I was whilst writing my last post, but I’d hardly say I’m jumping for joy at the wonders of life. I didn’t go out to the pub in the end yesterday, instead staying in and heating up the last of that curry I made last week. It was very nice, and well worth missing the pub for. I might leave it until Friday to go out now, as the pub opens at noon then. Or just go out tomorrow for their 2 pm opening. We shall see.

I’ve played some guitar as well today, which is a positive sign. I’m listening to AC/DC at the moment, so I’m adding a solid, hard rock crunch to my guitar tone. Still no word about my custom built guitar, so I’ll assume maybe November will be the earliest it’ll arrive. Sigh. I’ve got that new-guitar itch again. It’s an addiction! Maybe I’ll just order a stock one from anywhere this time, as it’ll only take a day or so to arrive, rather than five FRIGGING months.

Oh, I can hear the oil sizzling. Just a moment…

While my new balcony sure does look smart, there does still seem to be water collecting out there. I’m guessing they would have listened to me yesterday when I told them it was probably a drainage problem, had they not been subcontractors who just wanted to charge the council for a new balcony. People suck. Anyway, I’ll ring the council at some point before things flood again.

The burgers are frying away nicely now.

I listened to a bit of progressive rock earlier this week, shockingly enough. I was generally looking for science fiction-themed music, and thought I’d dip my toe into the prog water that I’m usually so afraid of. I’ve discovered Nektar, basically. And I like them.

These are beef burgers I’m frying, so I’m guessing they don’t need too long to cook. Best quickly go turn them over. One second…

…sorted. I did want turkey burgers, as they’re actually a lot tastier, but they didn’t have turkey burgers. Life, huh?!

Still no word from the very few people in my life. Never has it been so quiet around here. I guess I should appreciate the peace but, well, perhaps this is just the calm before a people storm.

I’ve taken the burgers off the hob to let them stop angrily sizzling away. I’ll go have a bite and chat to you all later in the week.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

P.S. I’m back to proof read now. The burgers were very nice.

P.P.S. I have no idea why I'm naming these posts after the Porky's film series, which I've never seen. I'm very lonely.

A Severe Banging 2: The Next Day

So nobody from the council came in the afternoon to contradict the morning workmen, in the end. I’m assuming now, in the cold light of the next day, that the shift in time was due to my ringing the council back on Wednesday to beg them to come out sooner, even though I meant more like the following day. But afternoon to morning was fine. It just all took me by surprise.

The two guys repaving my balcony were there for the better part of the morning, and that stuttering guy actually sounded really cute. A gentle soul. He probably has a girlfriend who mistreats him. Sigh. His boss sounded just awful, like most alpha-male, blue-collar swine. Oh well.

NB: “Swine” is the plural form of “swine”, apparently. Which is news to me. I thought I’d just mentioned it so you didn’t think I made a mistake. In that instance, at least. Not that I’m saying you don’t know how to spell. I… erm… oh I don’t know.

I seem to have hit a rough patch this week, so my depression must be fighting through the medication. Maybe I should go out today, but booze never helps. It does cheer me up to see people though. I just… well… have nowhere else to go. The pub will be open at 2 pm, so all I need to do is stick around for a grocery order that’s due before then. I generally just get super-depressed on alcohol if I have a three day binge at home alone. I have no booze in the flat, so whatever I drink down there will be the end of it.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, my pub’s back open! It looks the same as usual, which was kinda the idea. They weren’t going to use the fire as an excuse to change anything. It was the Steel City Beer Festival over the weekend, so there were some strangers in there when I dropped by on Friday, but that’s ok. Here’s a brief video of me enjoying my first pint back:

No word from my guitar Yoda lately. I drunkenly messaged him on Friday to ask if he fancied a chat, to which he said he’d call me on Sunday. It’s now Tuesday so… erm… I don’t know what’s happening there. In line with my mood drop, I seem to have lost a bit of interest in guitar playing anyway, so I’m not sure what we would have talked about. I guess we do have other things to say to one another. I think.

During my Wednesday-Friday binge last week, I did end up with some new people in my PlayStation friends list, which often happens. Their appearance usually being a surprise to me the following day. Nothing came from them though, as they were mostly people who don’t speak the same language, so text chats via Google’s translator was the only thing we could manage. Sexy, huh?

Hmm, what else? Oh, another sign that I’m in the midst of a low mood attack is me watching Will & Grace again. It’s my happy place. I was working through The Mysterious Cities of Gold, but I needed something lighter. The brutal rape of South America by the Conquistadores is hardly mood-lifting stuff. I haven’t watched any more of that Rome series, due to how grim it is. But I discussed all that in a previous post.

So, yeah, I’m not feeling very creative or interested in anything cultural, plus contact with people is still practically non-existent. I feel like I’m adrift in a lifeboat in the middle of an infinite ocean. Only with a television and fresh water. And a fridge. And the capacity to have takeaways delivered. And go out to the pub.

You get the idea.

Right… so… erm… yeah… I best go have a shower so that, should I decide to, I can head out to the pub straight after my shopping is delivered. I hope your week is fairing better than mine. Well, mine’s not fairing poorly, per se, it’s just my depression that’s causing issues.

Good times.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Woken early by a severe banging

Chance would be a fine thing.

I was awoken this morning at around 8 am by noise on the outside of my building. I think it actually managed to make its way into my final dream of the night. Anyway, I opened my living room curtains to find a ladder attached to the balcony. A bit confused, was I. The council are supposed to be coming out later on today to examine the leak/flood I mentioned in my last post, so the early hour of workmen actually there doing work without checking anything first seemed/seems a little off. I’m wondering whether to call the police, or if there is even anything to call them about. I tried ringing the council but, due to their super-high volume of calls, their motherfucking phoneline hung up on me. A robot put the phone down on me. What a world, huh?!

Basically, my concern is that, keen to get something done about the leak (understandably), my neighbour downstairs has hired workmen of her own. A guy did come to my door eventually with ID, but I assume such things can be faked. He also had a bad stutter, which seems to have gone now, as he is speaking to his colleagues quite clearly.

My possibly paranoid concerns are: why, when even their phoneline is hanging up on people, are the council able to come out so soon and actually get stuff done; why didn’t they ask to come in to examine my balcony first, instead deciding to repave it apropos of nothing; was the man at the door affecting a stutter to make me feel sympathetic so as to trust him; what’s going to happen if/when the council does turn up this afternoon?

I’m doubtful as to a council tenant being so desperate to get work done that they’d actually spend money on it themselves, unless I get a bill from a bunch of thugs connected to the dodgy cunts who live in and around this area. I can hear that loud cockney guy down there now, so it wouldn’t be too surprising if he was involved.

Well, I guess only time will tell. I don’t like being made a fool of but, then again, it’s very early, and I’m aware of how confused I am.

Sigh.

I’ll post again later on today/in the week to let y’all know what happens.

Wish me luck!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

The Great Flood

I managed to get up and showered nice and early today, as I was expecting two knocks at my door. The first was supposed to be the supermarket, delivering tasty, tasty booze; while the second was supposed to be a delivery of some minor guitar accessories. Who actually knocked on my door first was a lovely man from the council, who was here to inform me that there was another leak from my flat to the one below. I rolled my eyes and calmly made an appointment for them to come out this coming Monday. After the man left, I went and peeked out my lounge window onto the balcony and was shocked to see a lake out there. From corner to corner to corner to corner, the recent rainfall had settled, rising to about four inches. Eek! Now being concerned that this may actually affect my property, I spent the next two hours out there with a bucket and dustpan very, very, very slowly siphoning the water off and pouring it down the toilet. Sigh. I legitimately don’t think I’ve done that much physical labour in my entire life. Well, it seems to be mostly gone now, and apparently it’s going to be clear and mild over the next few days so, hopefully, by the time another torrent comes, the council will have don’t something about it.

Time for a paragraph break, methinks!

It actually took me two hours to get through to the council, starting off at number thirty-five in the hold queue. The lady at the call centre said they’d request an “escalation” on her computer to, hopefully, get somebody to ring and come out before the weekend. But, I dunno, I get the feeling nobody’s gonna call.

Strangely enough, even though it was a stressful event and very hard work, having something different to do was actually quite nice. I genuinely haven’t been out on my balcony for that long in the ten years I’ve lived here, and it may have given me the confidence to finally sit out there casually. I’m making no promises though.

While I was busy in the cotton fields, my shopping and guitar accessory orders did arrive, so I now have a fair amount of booze to get through. I was going to wait until tomorrow, when my regular pub reopens, but I think I’ve earned a few jars.

So, basically, I’m now going to get drunk and watch some therapeutic Parks & Recreation.

If you believe in any invisible space wizards, please pray to them for me to ask for no rain to fall in Sheffield over the weekend. It might be nice to distract them from persecuting LGBT folk, for a change.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Sleeping with the windows closed

I can’t tell you how great it is to have the temperature drop like it has. Well, I can: it’s really great! Sitting still and not sweating is a pleasure you don’t fully appreciate until it you can do it. As mentioned in my last post, the colder weather means that the local gobshites stay indoors, which also means my blood pressure has gone down considerably. It also-also means that I can start recording music again, which I may do this afternoon. I’ve got plenty of musical ideas to work with, so I just need to pick one.

That pain in the right side of my torso has completely gone now. Perhaps it was just something to do with how I’ve been sleeping. I keep forgetting to ring the council to ask them to provide me with a new bed. One that doesn’t fall apart. Maybe I’ll do that after I finish writing this. If the pain was to do with my liver, then I guess I’ll know when I have my next drinking session (binge). I was going to order some booze with the shopping that came yesterday, but I’ve just not been in the mood. My regular pub reopens in a couple of days, so maybe I’ll wait till then. We shall see.

There were a lot of emergency services vehicles around my area last night. I counted four separate sirens in total (I’m never sure which siren corresponds to which service). We also had a police helicopter knocking about above us, so something big must have happened. I’m hoping they’re finally cracking down on the gang activity that seems to have increased since the end of the lockdown, but that’s probably just wishful thinking. Plus, I think if they’re making planned “busts”, then they won’t march in with sirens blazing. Hmmm. I’ll keep an eye on the local news.

I spent the bulk of yesterday cooking, although I prefer to use the term “battling” when it comes to concocting one of my curries. I didn’t use a pack of preprepared stir fry vegetables this time. I actually chopped everything! Well, all except the tomatoes, as the supermarket didn’t have the size I wanted, so I had to cheat with a tin. I used two tins of coconut milk in this recipe, just to see what difference it made. It’ll probably mean my heart attack comes sooner. I also used lamb mince and paneer, as the “centrepiece”, or whatever you call it. I didn’t have a portion yesterday, as I find curries taste better after a night in the fridge; although, from what I tasted whilst battling, it’s a bloody fine one! I divided it up into three servings, so one’s gone in the freezer. Woo!

A guitar amplifier I really want is on sale secondhand at my local guitar shop. It’s quite a tempting price, although still quite a lot. It’s a coveted model, so it may have gone by now, which just means I won’t have to decide anyway.

I literally dusted off a cheap guitar [see picture below] the other day that I bought years ago, just to see if it was any good. I wasn’t impressed when I first bought it, impulsively, I must say, but it’s actually a really nice instrument. I had to put new strings on it, which was a pain in the arse, as they had completely rusted. It’s a Vintage (the brand, not the age) SG and, while certain parts of it certainly feel it’s £70 price-tag, I’ve been able to coax some lovely tones out of it. Using that tube amp I started reusing again helps. Everything seems to sound great through it. I did have an Epiphone SG a while back, but I wasn’t all that impressed with it. Maybe, after my first one finally arrives, I’ll put in an order with that custom guitar luthier for an SG-shape, which they do, erm, do. I’ve already started planning which colour and pickup configuration I want. This is also what’s putting me off buying that secondhand amp. I need the cash for more guitars!

Listening-wise, I’ve gone back to good ol’ Hard-Fi this week. Their third and, to date, final album has its iffy moments, but the first two are quite wonderful. The second one is definitely underappreciated. Hopefully they’ll release their long-gestating fourth album soon. I think they’ve been waiting for their guitarist to re-join the band. I actually appear in their Wikipedia entry, as I lamented in a Twitter post (when I was still on there) that they were no longer listed as on a hiatus, and had officially disbanded. While I didn’t mention this to them directly, they did respond, clarifying that they were still hiatussing [real word]. This brief back-and-forth is what appears in their Wikipedia entry, although my original tweet no longer exists. But I know it was me! That’s about as close to fame as I’ll ever get, methinks.

I tried out Glasvegas’ new album earlier today, which I couldn’t get through. Maybe I’ll try again. Their second album, Euphoric Heartbreak, isn’t quite as bad as I remembered. It’s certainly better than their last couple of releases. Their “sixth form poetry” is amusingly bad, but in an endearing sorta way. It’s like: “Aww, they’re really trying!”. Condescending, I know. But true.

I’m sure the music I produce is no better.

I’ve discovered the Rod Stewart/Ronnie Wood band Faces, which was active in the early 1970s. I don’t think I’ve heard much Wood-era Rolling Stones, but his work with Faces is something very special indeed. I’d love to know what guitar amp he’s using, as the tones he produces sound as if they’ve been sent down from heaven. I’ll have to do some research, although I’m sure it’ll turn out to be a model way out of my specification requirements (too loud, basically) and price range. Life, huh?!

Well, I don’t have much else to report. I’m just kind of existing at the moment, as one does. There’s still been little to no communication with anybody, which I guess is no bad thing. I have lots of DVDs and video games to keep me company, so at least that’s something. I’ve started replaying Dragon Age: Inquisition, which I gave up on not long after starting about four years ago. Turns out, it’s a lot of fun! I’m just roaming around doing quests, as and when I can be arsed. I’m finding it’s a good one to play just before I go to bed as a way of winding down. I’ve downloaded some other single player titles as, of course, my gaming buddies are non-existent at this point. It’s my own fault.

I’ve finally started watching that Rome series from 2005. It’s exactly what I feared – a show about horrible people doing horrible things to each other, with distractingly gratuitous sex and nudity thrown in for, I dunno, some reason. I think it’s the show that inspired things like Game of Thrones. I’m not a prude, as I watch quite a few peoples’ fair share of pornography, but I just don’t like it in drama. It’s like when the narrative of a musical stops to have a musical number. I’m all like “Why are they singing and dancing all of a sudden?! Just get on with the bloody story!”. I don’t dislike musicals quite as much as I used to, but that thought still runs through my head. So, yes, Rome is ok, I guess. I just don’t care about anything that’s going on, as all the characters are such douchebags. Plus, the show’s requirement for actors with visually-pleasing bodies means that the quality of performances is low. Down in the mud low. Tits though, right?! Sigh. People suck. Anyway, I’ll carry on for as long as possible. Maybe it’ll eventually give me something to give a crap about.

Right, I best go pick out a drum beat to record a song to.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

P.S. The title of this post is a reference to it now being too cold to have the windows open at night, which is pretty mandatory during the spring and summer months. I didn't have anything more creative to use, I'm afraid. Please send your suggestions for a better title on a postcard to...

To Live and Die in South Yorkshire

Well, after the usual stuttering start, the autumnal weather seems to be here to stay. Woo! I could do with a little more sunshine though, as the persistent rain over the past few days has started to get me down. Oh well, at least it keeps the scallies indoors and out of trouble. I haven’t had to call the police in, like, a week. Shocker!

My regular pub is finally reopening next week, after being firebombed a couple of months ago. I’ve been finding alternative drinking holes though. I paid a visit to the pub in the train station on Tuesday, which is actually one of the best pubs in town, believe it or not. A short and, if I may so, rather dull video of me sat drinking in there has, bizarrely, gone viral on YouTube. I’m really not sure what’s happened there. Either someone’s posted a link to it on social media, or someone died after pressing “repeat to infinity” on whatever device they were using. Go figure. Anyway, the video is below. If you can tell my which a hundred and forty (and counting) people would want to watch it, I’d be curious to hear.

That guitar luthier rang the other day to confirm the specs for my custom build. I emailed them to ask if everything was ok, as it was almost a month past their original ETA. Apparently it’ll be ready around the start of October, so…

I’ve been playing a lot of guitar lately, and even dusted off my tube amp. Transistor/power/solid-state amps sound better at low volume, which is good for me and my tiny council flat, but I thought I’d treat ma’self. Turns out, it’s only a 5 watt machine, so it sounds good at transistor level anyway. The popping/crackling problem returned today, which is why I stopped using it in the first place, but it only seems to be one particular guitar that causes it. I’ll run some tests.

I started getting pains in my tummy on Wednesday, roughly in the area that I believe my liver is. It wouldn’t surprise me if I have cirrhosis and, quite frankly, I deserve it. It’s been a long time coming. It seems to have eased off now, so perhaps it’s something else, but I’m keeping an open mind. Being disabled and clinically depressed, I’m not too keen on sticking around until old age so, if it is cirrhosis, I won’t be looking for medical treatment. I just hope it takes me in my sleep or, I dunno, while I’m watching Keith Floyd episodes drunk. That’d be nice.

I really need to do some housework, as some areas are getting rather, erm, brown. It’s good weather for it, as physical labour in the summertime isn’t pleasant. It can now be a cheaper alternative to putting the heating on. Although I’ll be using the boiler to heat the water anyway, so that doesn’t make sense. Sigh.

I’ll get my life together eventually.

Hobby-wise, I’ve not been into much apart from guitar practice. Oh, I did buy the South Park 1-5 boxset, so I’m slowly working my way through that. Very slowly. I remember watching it a lot first time around. It was that and Friends that teens in the 90s referenced the most. I also bought the Rick Moranis Little Shop of Horrors film and Ridley Scott’s G I Jane. I’ve only gotten through half of both but, so far, I’m not enjoying Little Shop as much as I expected (I watched it a lot on video when I was a kid), and I’m enjoying G I Jane more than expected (it’s one of the few Ridley Scott films I’ve never seen). What a strange world!

Speaking of friends, it’s all pretty quiet on that front. I’m texting the ex regularly, as she’s the only one I can hold a conversation with, but that’s about it. She usually complains about being tired, and I usually mention that I’m in the pub. We’re quite a pair.

I think I’ll order a takeaway tonight, although I’ll feel guilty about having someone deliver in this horrible weather. I guess they’ll be out anyway, plus I’ll give them a tip. Maybe I’ll double it today. I might go with a pizza/burger place. I haven’t done that in a while. I’ll have a vegetarian pizza to, you know, get my five a day.

I can’t imagine why I’m diabetic.

Fool of a Took.

Anyway, I just thought I’d fire a few words your way, so you know I’m still mooching around somewhere.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Love and vomit

While I’m sure it won’t last, this morning feels like the first truly autumnal day of the year. Proper grim northern weather. And so, of course, I’m very happy. But, like the weather, I’m sure the happiness won’t last either.

So, as you may have gathered from my last post, I did finally manage to venture out into town for a few beers last week. I don’t know why I felt inclined to show you that video as its own post (instead of waiting to include it in a text update such as this) but, hey, booze and all that, right? I guess I was just so excited about being out and about, even though it did end up being quite an expensive afternoon.

My first port of call was to pick up some prescription medication from my local pharmacy, after which I took a bus into the centre of town to draw out some cash (having forgotten to do so while picking up the meds). I then taxied back out to the first pub, which is inconveniently located on the outskirts of the city centre (before you get to he suburbs) on an industrial estate. Sheffield’s a big place, although deceptively not so “as the crow flies”. What might look like a mile-long journey in your head actually turns out to be three miles in reality. Everything in Sheffield is uphill. And then downhill. Then uphill again. So you just get used to taking more public transport than you usual would. When I first moved here, I was shocked when I saw people taking bus trips just to the next stop. But now I finally get it, and even do it myself. Anyway, the first pub was fun to visit, as I’d not been there in years (not including the lockdown). I used to do solo pub crawls around the centre of town, often starting or ending at that pub. Then I got lazy. While I never seemed to like the beer there, the building has this wonderful aura about it that I just can’t resist. When I’m there, I imagine I’m Bilbo Baggins retiring at Rivendell, with the grey clouds of reality being mere misty curtains hiding the valley walls of fantasy. Sigh. Wouldn’t that be great? For some reason, I just feel safe and at home there. I even took my top off in there once, which I haven’t done in public since… well… ever.

I kept all my clothes on this time though.

While the staff didn’t demand any social distancing (which can no longer be enforced legally anyway), they were sticking to card payments-only. I guess I should prefer that, as it saves having to use a cash machine (which I’m finding harder and harder to use nowadays), but it still feels weird doing so to buy just one beer. Oh well. After three pints of a stout, I suddenly felt nauseated. I initially shrugged this off, thinking maybe missing a week of medication was at play, but then I got that classic moist feeling in my mouth, which feels like your body lubricating your pipes for when the vomit comes. Lucky, I made it to the toilet in time, and ended up honking up into the bowl for a few minutes. I was fine with this (I mean, who doesn’t like a good purge?), but it put me in a weird headspace after, thus sapping my enthusiasm to continue my drinking session. I managed to down another couple of pints in there though (that video was taken BEFORE the deluge of puke), before making my planned journey to the next pub.

Since my regular pub has been the victim of an arson attack (it wasn’t burned to the ground, as I may have implied), I thought I’d go to another one of the three pubs around town owned by the same company. An extra incentive was that they’ve just opened a bottle shop/liquor store just next door, so I could pick up a few beers before heading home. The store is also run by that woman I went on a walk with just after the lockdown started last year and, while I seem to have been incorrect about this, initially hoped might be interested in me, romantically-speaking. Still, she’s very nice, and I thought a friendly “Hello!” and being supportive of a local company’s finances would count as my good dead for the, erm, year. If you see local pubs as charities, you feel a lot less angst-ridden about your alcoholism. I think I’d only been to the second pub maybe twice before, mainly due to its tricky location. Unfortunately, real ale pubs do tend to be in random places, necessitating either long walks or public transport fares. I took a taxi between pubs because I’d noticed a lot of regeneration roadworks around the area on the way to the first, but I sort of regret this now. I reckon I could have done the journey on foot. Maybe. Well, I turned up at the second pub’s door just after they’d opened at 3 pm, finding an adorably camp young man working behind the bar. I tried asking him about the fire at the other pub, but he seemed understandably tight-lipped about it all (and not just because he was wearing a face covering). I also tried my best to flirt, which failed. As usual. This pub were accepting cash, so my initial venture into town wasn’t a total waste of time. Not a great deal of note happened in there, so I’ll skip to the next bit…

Ta-da! Here we are, at the next bit. Well, the chat in the bottle shop with that woman was pretty uneventful too, as I recall (I was quite twatted by this stage). I got her to pick out a selection of twelve pale ales for me, which came to a depressing, but not shocking, £40-or-so. When you buy real ale cans from local breweries, you basically pay the in-pub draft price. Alas! But, again, I tried to see it as supporting a local charity.

I’ve just poured myself another coffee, as I’m struggling a bit this morning. Although I did wake up at 6 am after a full night’s sleep, which was a treat. Let’s see if we can keep it to that routine.

Right, back to my story. Oh… wait… I think that was all. After the woman was sweet enough to guide my staggering self out to the third taxi of the day, I sat in silence (another treat!) with the driver until I got home. Things get a bit hazy after that.

At least I know for sure that town is still there, and it was nice to get away from this shithole for a few hours. Fingers crossed I don’t have a vomiting fit the next time I pop out for a few drinks. My regular pub says they’ll reopen sooner than they initially expected, so I’ll keep an eye on their Facebook updates. At least it’ll save on taxi fares once they do.

Since finally sobering up on Sunday, I’ve just generally been pottering about doing my local hobby stuff. For no real reason at all, I’ve decided to watch the films I consider to be set in the “Alien universe”. Even though they’re not directly related by story/characters/filmmaker/copyright. These films are:

Dark Star (1974)
Alien (1979)
Outland (1981)
Blade Runner (1982)
Aliens (1986)
Hardware (1990)

So it’s been a hard science fiction few days, basically. Blade Runner is a bit of a stretch, but I imagine the Off-world colonies mentioned within the film include Hadley’s Hope and whatever the mining colony is called in Outland. I should really include the first season of Red Dwarf too. Hmmm. Anyway, after rewatching Blade Runner, I can confirm that it is still my favourite movie. There’s always something new to pick up on! If you’ve never seen it before, don’t watch it if you’re in the mood for an action packed sci-fi film noir, as it’s really a slow, atmospheric, philosophical drama about the fear of ageing, obsolescence, and death. The killer robot thing was really a secondary concern for Ridley Scott. Oh and I recommend the 1992 Director’s Cut. That’s MY version out of the four or five available. I might try watching the belated sequel again although, to me, it stood in contrast to everything that made the original great. Plus the re-conning bullshit was unforgivable.

Re-watching Aliens today, I've come to the conclusion that the marines perhaps should have done a few things differently. Mainly, they shouldn't have made their first act to all charge into the colony building to investigate. They should have taken satellite/aerial photos/videos first, then spent, like, a week on the Sulaco analyzing the footage. You know, searching for any signs of life they could from a safe distance. Then, if they'd found nothing, maybe they could have gone down and driven around the buildings with their motion trackers on, after which they still go back to the Sulaco to make further plans. Then they could have flown further afield to check out the broader terrain, you know, just in case the colonists had evacuated to an outpost of some kind. After this, they could have then used loudspeakers to hail anybody within earshot around the colony buildings. For hours, maybe even days, they could have called out to people, telling them to come out and meet the marines. By then, they probably would have disturbed and discovered the aliens and called Earth for backup. Or just "nuke the site from orbit". After all, it's the only way to be sure. I suppose there wouldn't have been much of a film if all that'd happened. Plus Carter Burke was probably influencing things negatively, prequel Sith-style.

Well, apart from movie watching, I’ve also been trying to keep up with my guitar practice. I’m still playing around with high gain metal tones, but I’m back to listening to alternative rock for pleasure now. I’ve not heard from my guitar guru since before my last two posts, but at least we’re back in touch now. I think I had a dream about him last night actually. A rude one. Which I’m fine with. One can’t have enough wet dreams, right?!

Speaking of which, I ordered some sex toys from an online shop last week, which all arrived Saturday morning. It’s masturbation stuff, of course, as partners are non-existent these days. It’s been my first ever try of a “masturbator”, which are basically just tubes of ribbed rubber inside a plastic pot that you wank with and into. It works though, as I’ve been having multiple orgasms. I’m usually just content with the one. I also bought a dildo, which was lovely, and a big bottle of silicone lubricant. I don’t like the water-based stuff, as it usually dries out within seconds and starts to shred my asshole or dick apart. Nice, huh? Anyway, I might buy new masturbators regularly as, even though I’m trying to clean it thoroughly after use, I’m guessing they get pretty gross and bacterial after a few goes. I also might buy another, slightly bigger, dildo. Not to replace the one I just bought, but to “heat things up” once the smaller one has loosened my insides. I do like my ass destroyed, I must say.

Well, on that family-friendly note, I think I’ll call it a day. Nothing much else has happened this week, apart from an incident with one of the tenants downstairs which I was going to contact the police about. I wasn’t involved, but I am concerned about their welfare. I may not even bother, as I don’t think it’s something the police can do anything about. I’ve written a report about it, which I may submit online. We shall see.

Right, yes, that’s all for now, folks.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

"Don't adventures ever have an end?!"

 

Earth, wind, fire… and METAL!

So some cunt burned down my favourite pub. Sigh. Why do these things always happen to ME?! I just logged onto Facebook for a second to check if they were opening at lunchtimes yet and, after getting initially excited due to seeing a long speech of a post, was horrified to find that they’ve been the victim of an arson attack. Whether it was a random thing or targeted, I have no idea, but it’s horrid. It’ a little community centre in there, basically. They’ve made a lot of lonely alcoholics homeless. Well, the same company has two other pubs in town, so maybe I’ll try one of those out whilst they’re rebuilding.

I’ve been back to the pub three times so far, the last was, coincidentally, the afternoon before the fire. I’m assuming any violent grudges are formed during the evening sessions, which I avoid. Everyone seems really sweet during the day. They had been opening at lunchtime on a Friday, so one of my three return visits was then. I’m not gonna lie, it’s felt damn good. Although, if I’m completely honest with you, it’s also felt a bit of an anticlimax. It turns out that life sucks anyway, regardless of deadly global pandemics. Oh well. I’m trying to find out if the ex wants to meet up for a pint, so I’m not too intimidated by establishments I’m not all that familiar with. We shall see.

I’ve been out of my diabetes medication since Thursday, but I’m not feeling any major side-effects. Yet. I actually felt “better” before I started taking them a couple of years ago, even though I was dying. Life, huh?! Anyway, I’ll trying picking them up either tomorrow or, should it turn into a pub day, Thursday.

I had to partially rebuild my bed yesterday as, believe it or not, the one the council gave me is a cheap piece of crap. In lieu of me applying for a new one, my unskilled DIY hands had to do. It just required me groping around on my disgusting carpet for the nuts and bolts. Literally. The thing was hanging together by, erm, magic, I think. I was actually starting to get back pains, so hopefully those will go away now the thing is sturdier.

I’ve still had no word about that custom build guitar. It’s a week away from their twelve-week ETA, so fingers crossed! I should really double check that the money left my account back in May, as I chose to prepay. I’m very on the ball.

That old colleague/guitar guru is still sort-of in touch. We emailed regularly for about a week, but now things have gone quiet. Maybe the arrival of that guitar will rekindle the conversation. At least contact with him has been more frequent than my old gaming buddy, who seems have gotten the message and is now leaving me alone.

My brother texted me the other day. I’ve not read it all, but judging by the opening few words (in the notification preview) he and mother are planning to turn up in town very soon. For some reason, my brain is telling me that it won’t happen if I just don’t read the text. I should just get it over and done with. I wish they’d take the hint that, while I love them and am happy to chat to them over text/emails or phone, I’m not keen to meet in person. They’re a lot of hard work and quite judgemental. And I’ve not aged well.

I’m such a warm fella, ain’t I?

I’m going through a bit of a dry spell in terms of my usual interest in music at the moment but, based on similar such periods in the past, it just means I need to try new stuff out. For some reason, I decided to give heavy metal my every-few-years-or-so try. I’m not a fan of metal, mainly because I find it takes the joy out of rock. It’s like the other extreme to progressive rock, which also takes the joy out of the genre. Where prog is dull and meandering, metal has TOO MUCH of the good stuff. Like a sugar overload. I prefer the instrumental/melodic restraint of alternative rock. Usually, that is. But, for some strange reason, I’m into metal right now. Like a pregnant woman with cravings for unusual foods (does that actually happen, or is it a myth created by sitcom writers?). I’m currently sticking mainly to “power metal”, which is more melodic than the usual stuff, plus it delves into speculative fiction themes, such as high fantasy. I can’t take any of it seriously, but the campiness and chugga-chugga riffs seem to be doing it for me. I’ve even started experimenting with high gain “metal” tones in my music nook. Crazy days.

If you have any heavy metal recommendations, then do drop me a line.

I’ve decided to try out some single player video games this week, since I’m short on gaming buddies. I’ve started the indie RPG Disco Elysium, which had its score composed by the band British Sea Power. Oh wait, sorry, they’ve recently changed their name to “Sea Power” due to Brexit. That’s not even a joke. It feels like a passive aggressive tantrum about four years too late. Anyway, I’ll be calling them British Sea Power until they finally pull their heads out of their arses. FFS. But, yeah, Disco Elysium is interesting so far. It's kind-of two dimensional, in terms of its graphics, and contrast between objects/areas is low, so I'm struggling a bit, visually speaking. It does look like somebody's hand-drawn and painted every inch of the map though, which is lovely. My eyes just bail on it. I guess I'm too used to the AAA lushness of games like Fallout and Skyrim. The change from my usual titles is enjoyable though.

I’ve nearly finished my watch of the American Dad boxset. It’s still solid, and I’d really recommend it. The only thing I don’t like is how they’ve changed Roger over time. He initially worked as this camp, eccentric, alcoholic “guy” who lives in the Smith’s attic and SOMETIMES put on disguises. It was a treat! Now he’s the psychotic villain of the show and is always wearing a “wacky outfit”, regardless of whether he needs to or not due to his extra terrestrial status. Like metal music, it’s too much of the good stuff. They should have kept his character simple. Now I feel unsettled and frightened whenever he appears on screen. I even yelled “No, don’t let him anywhere near her!” at the screen when Hayley was unconscious for some reason and he slowly creeped into view. That’s not a positive reaction to a once-loveable character.

Sort it out, Seth.

Hmmm, what else? Oh yes, as well as rebuilding my bed, I started tidying up around it a few days beforehand. After bringing the last of my possessions over from the ex’s a few years ago, I just let stuff pile up in there. I’ve been able to get to and from my bed, but that’s about it. I can now just about get to the other side of the room. I need a few bookcases, is all, then junk won’t be just sat in boxes still.

Well, I think that’s about all for now, folks. I’ve got a tin of chilli on the hob, which I’m going to add cous-cous too once it’s heated. Fancy!

I’ll try to post more frequently.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

"Well, I'm back."

Dead Kettle Blues

So that was a little treat this morning - I staggered into the kitchen after just waking up and, much to my horror, my kettle didn’t come on. I tried mixing and matching plug sockets etc. but, alas, it seem to have died. I’ve ordered some fuses, just in case that that’s all it needs. It was quite expensive, I do recall. Plus, I have a small lamp (that takes the same fuses) in a cupboard that’s never worked (the lamp, not the cupboard), so maybe I can finally get that working too. Anyway, I ended up managing to wake myself up with some [branded caffeinated sugar free cola drink]s and a leftover mushroom foo yung from last night’s takeaway. I may need to jump straight in the shower tomorrow, as that usually guarantees a wake-up.

Oh, there was a follow up to that man from the council knocking on my door on Friday regarding a leak in the flat below. That cockney, alpha male gobshite over the way actually had the nerve to come a-knocking too. Apparently he’s friends with the people downstairs and, rather than them coming up and speaking to me themselves, sent their abrasive, threatening, douchebag mate. I wasn’t impressed. He asked if he could come in and have a look at what’s causing the leak, as if he was an expert in building repairs. I said “No” and “The council have been and looked at it, and they’re going to return to fix it”, to which he then believed there was going to be more to our conversation, so I just shut the door in his face. Damn, it felt good. I knew he’d eventually turn up on my door for some reason. Why can’t people just mind their own business?! I had water coming through my bathroom ceiling once, and the council just said “Put a bucket down”. I would advise them to do the same.

After that incident, I started to feel even less safe in my own home so, this afternoon, I finally cut sheets of the sticky, frosted plastic I bought, like, ten years ago (to do the this exact thing) and covered up the kitchen windows*. I can now, officially, prance around my kitchen naked while waiting for the toast to pop. It’s a privilege you don’t realise you’ll miss until it’s gone. I’m one of the least practical people in the world, so cutting three rectangular pieces of plastic was a nightmare. I prefer more abstract art, without straight lines. I feel threatened by rulers.

Moving on.

That chap did eventually turn up in person to deliver the guitar distortion pedal I bought off him. I did ask if he’d like to pop in for a cup of tea, as one does but, rather unsurprisingly, he had stuff to do. Oh well. It’s a very nice piece of kit, and a welcome addition to my bulging distortion pedal collection.

My old gaming buddy keeps sending me messages and friend requests, even though I’ve decided to break contact. I feel very cruel, but I know nothing usually bothers him and, well, I wouldn’t have done such a thing if I wasn’t genuinely upset. If you’ve ever read the Discworld novels, then you’ll know what I mean when I say that I feel like his “dwarf bread”. I’m that food item in your satchel that you keep as the last of last resorts, because you know it’ll last forever and is pretty tough going. So you’ll wait until you’re snowed in on a mountainside, looking around the dimming campfire, wondering who’s going to eat who first. And, even then, you’ll still try a nibble of another friend’s arm before you think of resorting to me. Nah, I’m nobody’s dwarf bread.

I think my brief vegetarian phase has come to an end as, in the takeaway I mentioned above, there were a fair few meat products. Sadly, this Chinese doesn’t do any vegetarian starter combos, which is usually what I order. There’s a chicken Thai green curry reheating in the oven as I type.

No word yet from my regular pub on whether they’re going back to their old opening times. I did post a semi-anonymous comment on their Facebook site asking. I don’t “officially” have an FB account anymore, just a blank one in case I need to access a small company’s website (like for this situation). Which actually happens quite a lot.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Jimi Hendrix this weekend. I’ve been working on a playlist of his posthumously released songs for ages, which is about forty tracks long. He seemed to have such a sad life, and was a very shy, humble, thoughtful man. It’s a shame that nefarious rock journalists/historians try to paint him as a super-outgoing rock god. He wasn’t. It was all just a flamboyant stage act. If you read about his childhood, I swear you’ll never stop crying. Especially the thing about the broom. Go have a look.

I have been drunk over the last few days, but I think the hangover’s finally gone. My head will be a bit rough anyway from missing a week’s worth of antidepressants, so anything that feels like a lingering hangover probably isn’t.

Probably.

Oh, my old work colleague and “guitar Yoda” got in touch on Friday. We haven’t spoken since I shut my FB account down a couple of years ago. I think the last time we spoke I posted here that I thought he had been drunk at the time, and that he had subsequently forgot ever getting in touch. I think that’s just happened again**. Well, he was keen enough to dig out my email address, which I don’t think he’s used since we worked together fifteen years ago. Still, he’s a lovely guy (although a fucking pain in the arse to work with) and, very likely, the one chance I’ll ever have of being in a band. Maybe I’ll be his bassist. I do have a bass guitar. We shall see. I might ping him an email reminding him that we’re back in touch now. Sigh.

Right, I think my curry’s about ready to come out of the oven, so I best go prance around naked in my kitchen. Gosh, it really does feel good to say that!

Anyway, do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

*the council won’t put up curtains/blinds in tenants’ kitchens as, apparently, it’s a fire hazard

**I’m sat editing this post and an email notification just popped up from him, so he didn’t forget. I’ll read it once I’m done here and update you next time

A rainy day in hell

Rather shockingly, the air moved today. Like, there was an actual breeze. It rained too, but that had been forecast for a few days. I hear down south got it first, so it clearly took a while to mooch its way up north. Anyway, it was nice to not be sweating while sitting perfectly still for a change. The heavy rain meant that, just after dinner, there was a knocking at my door. Apparently, water started leaking from my balcony to the flat downstairs. I doubt it’s that big of a deal, as the deluge was very intense, so unforeseen leakages/floods/whatever were bound to happen. Basically, the council are going to turn up at random to repave my balcony, which I’m not too sure I like the sound of. Quite why I have to make appointments to see them, but then they get to turn up at my home whenever the fuck it suits them, well, it just creams my corn. Woah, I’ve never used that expression before. Think I’ve been watching too much American television. Anyway, it’s going to make my planned alcoholic binge tomorrow a little complicated. Maybe I should wait until the weekend. But I shouldn’t have to, right? Oh I don’t know. People suck.

I think I’ve now missed nearly a week’s worth of antidepressants. The hot weather has kept me indoors, plus my sleep pattern is, as always, rather all over the place. I’m wondering whether missing a load might actually help jumpstart their effect, as I’ve been having the major gloomies recently. Like, DEFCON 2 sorta stuff. It’s worked in the past. I believe Carrie Fisher used to have electroconvulsive therapy for the same reason. Bless. I’ll try and get out tomorrow to post my prescription, using taking my rubbish down to the wheelie bins as motivation. I’m not getting too dizzy yet, so I’ll feel safe walking, plus the cooler temperature will make it slightly more pleasant. The kids are off school though, so I may get picked on for using my white cane. Adults do it too though, so I might not notice much difference.

No pub yet, but that one in town I think I mentioned in my last post has started opening at midday now. I tried to ring them yesterday to ask whether you had to unnecessarily adhere to social distancing inside, but nobody answered. They get a lot of cold callers.

I contacted a local amplifier repair guy to ask if he could build me a cute, retro-50s transistor amp, as such a thing doesn’t exist for under £1,500 at the moment. He said the idea was a bit too arts-and-crafts for him, which I totally understand, so I bought a distortion pedal off him instead, as I noticed on his website he’d started building and selling them independently. I thought that was a nice thing to do. He’s going to drop it off himself at some point, hopefully before I’ve started drinking. We shall see. I did find a new “boutique” amp range very close to the sort of thing I want, the Tone King Falcon Grande, but it’s waaay above my price point. And spec requirement. If kitschy retro styles are coming back, then maybe the mainstream brands will end up making some in my price range. You never know.

I’ve still not been in touch with my gaming buddy, which I’ve found very easy to do. I think I must have come to peace with him not being around anymore last year, when he first started disappearing for weeks on end. I don’t like being kept on a long leash. Be a close friend or a casual text-every-now-and-then friend. Not both. My heart just isn’t strong enough, and I don’t think he needs me in his life anymore. Sigh.

Oh, I’ve oddly drifted into vegetarianism this week. I have no idea why. Perhaps just for a change. I even ordered an Indian takeaway with no meat in any of the dishes. I half expected the delivery guy to ask if everything was ok with me. He didn’t. The food was still great though. If you’re ever in Sheffield and need a good curry house, I’ll ping you the restaurant’s name. Golly, lost my train of thought there. Veggie food, yes, that was it! So, yeah, I’ve got vegan cheese and the like clogging up my fridge at the moment. Meat-style sandwich slices are nice as a snack, but totally get lost in the flavour mix once they’re added to a sandwich… which is what you’re supposed to do with them. Oh well, live and learn.

My antidepressant withdrawals means my cultural interests are all over the place this week. I usually lie in bed at night listening to history reference books these days, but I’ve gone back to Discworld while I’m feeling weird. They’re my, like, emotional lifeboat, I think.

Speaking of which, I only got out of bed for a few minutes due to feeling felt restless, so I think I’ll quickly post this and head on back UNDER the duvet. Yes, you heard me, it’s now cool enough to climb under the sheets! Hurrah! It’s the little things.

Damn, it’s still too early to wish you a good weekend. Erm, have a good Thursday, or Friday, if you read this a day late. Or something. I dunno.

Can you tell my brain isn’t working right?

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Beware of geeks bearing gifts

Well, as sort-of promised, here’s a calmer, more detailed report on my general goings on than my psychotic rant on Monday. I’m still mightily miffed though, so don’t think that that’s over. But, hey, I’m guessing everybody’s a bit confused about what to do, since the government misleadingly said “it’s over but not really”. Hopefully my regular pub will post this weekend that they’re back open again at lunchtime next week. If not, then there’s one in town that I used to go to which seems positive about such changes. I want so very little in life, but the universe seems intent on making that little thing difficult. Sigh.

So, apart from all that alcoholic drama, I haven’t posted anything in a few months because… well… I’m not sure why. I guess I’ve just not felt very creative. It happens. I’ve not been too busy or anything, so I can’t use that as an excuse. My birthday was as dull as you can imagine. It basically involved getting drunk and eating curry alone. No presents, apart from a £30 voucher from mum, which went on a few DVDs. Basically, I had to treat myself, so I put an order in with the Gordon Smith guitar company for a custom built Les Paul-style which, because they’re a British-based company, wasn’t as expensive as you’d expect (no import duty!). They estimated that it’ll be ready in twelve weeks, so I’ve got roughly another month to wait. You can’t imagine how excited I am! I’ll try and do a video gear review once it’s arrived, depending on how confident I feel about having my whole tubby form be on-screen. Speaking of guitars, the Rickenbacker I bought over Christmas actually works now. I don’t know whether it was because I bought it during winter and maybe it was stored improperly, but the strings seem to have risen on the fretboard, making it playable. Perhaps the wood contracted/expanded or something. Anyway, It’s a relief, as it’d been collecting dust for months and months while I waited for the music shop to open so I could get it repaired. Now there’s no need, and it sounds great!

Oh I also treated myself to the fifteenth anniversary boxset of British Sea Power’s debut album, The Decline of British Sea Power. It was around the £100 mark, but it was totally worth it. There are some nice vinyl editions in there, which I won’t be able to play until… you guessed it!... I sort out a vinyl record player. Let me know if there are any brands/models you can recommend. Here’s my little video tour of the boxset, with commentary:

I’ve gotten into American Dad recently, as I ran out of Family Guy episodes in that boxset. The quality of American Dad is far more consistent than Family Guy’s, but it obviously doesn’t have Stewie Griffin in it, which will hamper even the best television show. Roger was fun at first, but he seems to have become the show’s antagonist now, so I feel unsafe whenever he’s on-screen. A far cry from the loveably camp alcoholic he started out as! Steve’s great, and it’s amusing how the creators like to get him and his friends naked as much as possible. Not awkward at all. I watched the first Critters film last night, having bought the 1-4 set years ago. I’d forgotten how adorable Scott Grimes, the voice of Steve, was in it. Shame about his grotesque mullet in Critters 2, but hey-ho. So, yes, apart from the brief break I’m taking at the moment, I’m really enjoying American Dad and hope to crack on with it asap.

I’ve not been into films much recently, although I think that’s about to change. I’ve dug out a pile of discs to watch, so maybe my sitcom-only viewing schedule will diversify over the weekend. The boxsets for the Rome and Spartacus TV series just arrived, so I’ve got those to work through. I’ve been meaning to watch these two unrelated shows for a while, but was concerned they’d be a bit too macho for me. We shall see.

It’s been super-hot this week, but that’s no surprise for this time of year. I’m having to sleep without a duvet, but with a pile of towels beneath me instead (to soak up the perspiration). I’m not a fan of the sun, needless to say. An additional negative side-effect of such weather is that all the locals become noisier than usual. As they say, “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noon day sun”. It’s true. It’s really, really true. Although dogs are usually better behaved than the scum who live around me. Harsh, but true.

I’ve finally had enough of my gaming buddy, who I’ve removed from my phone and console friends list. He’s been a pretty rubbish friend over the past year and a half, and things don’t seem to be improving. He claims to be too busy at the moment, but he still lives at home, isn’t paying rent, doesn’t have a job and has no other hobbies besides gaming. So I’m dubious. I think I’ve become “that mate who doesn’t mind being blown off, so he’s at the bottom of the priority list”. Nah, not on my watch. He finally noticed today that I’d unfriended him and messaged me about it, but I’ve not responded. I’m done. I foresee a lonely life ahead of me, but I’m finally coming to peace with that. Just so long as the frigging pubs open properly.

Well, I think I’ve come to the end of this post. There’s little to look forward to at the moment, so my send-off will probably be pretty muted. I sincerely hope that my next post will include a photograph of my first pint back in the pub, but I’ve said that quite a few times over the past year and a quarter, I’m sure.

Oh wait, I think it is my Audible credit day today, so at least I’ll be able to download a new audiobook. There. See? It’s not all negative. I think I’ll spend my credit on the eighty hour translation of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives of the Noble Greeks and Romans, which guarantees to be a hoot.

Anyway, do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

 

Hell hath no fury like a lonely alcoholic scorned

If you can’t hear from where you are, I’m screaming right ow. But you probably can.

So the government’s said that it’s all over, and we can now (Monday 19 July 2021) put our lives back to normal but, for reasons that will forever baffle me, they’ve dropped a note on their website basically saying: “But if you can just carry on with the restrictions anyway, just to piss off Jim, then that’d be great”.

And companies, including my regular pub which I haven't been able to go to for a year and a third, are ACTUALLY doing it.

The government LIED TO US. Halting at Stage 3 for another month was about being cautious. WHY ARE THEY LYING TO US?!

Fuck old people. Fuck the sick. Fuck kids. Fuck everyone. I want to go to the pub at 11:30am and not have to suffocate myself with face coverings. I want to be free and, while we are now “allowed” to, people are still going along with it. And why? Because social distancing has become everybody’s little project and a way of controlling those around them, and being “cool about covid” is chic. Well, chic can kiss my fat fucking ass.

But, anyway, apart from the above INFURIATING news, I’m a bit blah at the moment. Creativity is so-so, drinking alone is high, gaming is neutral, relations are next to nothing.

The light at the end of the tunnel got switched off, this afternoon. Everyone sucks, and I’m sick of not saying it anymore.

Fuck everything.

Don’t stay in touch, I’ve had enough of the lot of you.

Toodles!

P.S. A more positive, detailed, sane post should drop in a few days, once I’ve stopped screaming. Or will it? I'm probably just saying things will be back to normal, then backtrack.

 

 

Binge banter before bedtime

So, yeah, I got drunk for a week after getting upset at some local pranksters/bullies who threw things at my kitchen window and tampered with my front door (I’m still not sure what they did to the latter). Was it worth all the hangovers? I dunno, but it took my mind of external assailants for a while. I was teetering on the edge of the wagon anyway, and the harassment just nudged me off. I’m still not 100% sure who it was that did those, I assume, connected things, but there’s been no follow-up incidents. Yet. I’m keeping an ear open though.

Anyway, it’s Friday night and I’m cooking a bedtime burger. I peaked too early today, food-wise, by having my signature tuna and bean, erm, thingy for lunch. The ham sandwich I had for dinner was a huge anti-climax. Basically, I feel as though I should make amends and go to bed on a happy tummy.

I’m feeling less creative in a writing way, post-binge, but I don’t think the two are related. I did seem to be going through a transitionary stage beforehand and, well, to cut a long story short, I have a new electric guitar. It wasn’t a drunk purchase, more of a still-awake-at-5am purchase. It’s a Fender Jazzmaster, which is a model I’ve never owned before. I’ve owned just about every other type. Jazzmasters are usually associated with the alternative/indie/shoegazing scene. It’s just a Flying V I’d like to try out next. We shall see. But, yes, I’m slowly being pushed out of my one-bedroom flat by guitars. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing with my revived interest in playing, but I hope it’ll be some intense recording. I’ll try to do something heavier this time, rather than my usual sub-Coldplay melodic prancing. Keep watch on the Pondzombies page on SoundCloud! Actually, I may change my artist name. I’ve got a few ideas. Mouse Rat? Nah, I think that’s been done.

You'll be amazed to hear, although not quite as amazed as I, that I mopped my kitchen floor yesterday. Along with the bathroom clean the other week, I think I'm feeling rather domestic at the moment. I also cleared the living room so I could get to my music nook. What's happening to me?! Oh well, it all needed doing. Desperately. I don't even wanna try to describe the colour of the bucket water I poured down the toilet after the kitchen was all done. Yuck! That horrible damp smell in the bathroom seems to go every time I shut the window in there, so I'm content now that it's coming from outside. In fact, after it rained the other day, I can't smell it at all now, so perhaps the bad weather washed whatever-it-was away.

Speaking of bad smells, I've not felt very sexual this week. I'm making sure to masturbate daily, but I just can't find anything to watch to "get me going". I'm finding the fantasy of being a girl filling in a boy sandwich just about gets me across the finishing line, but only just. Maybe I'll feel more amorous over the weekend. I've nothing planned, I just know what I'm like with always changing inside.

I had one of those really intense alternate life/relationship dreams last night. I lay stunned and on the verge of tears for ages after waking up. There were actually two partners in the dream, but I felt equally as strong about both. I'll never forget them, even though they never truly existed in the first place. Sigh. Why does my brain do this to me?! It feels like cruelty.

It’s been pretty quiet on the social front of late, apart from a few texts with the usual peripheral friends. We’re marching ever closer to the pubs reopening, which will make my schedule a little more interesting.

I’ve not added to my new creative writing project in a couple of weeks. You’ll never guess why. But I’ll try to carry on tonight or tomorrow. I don’t want to leave it too long so I get out of the habit.

Oh golly, I think that’s about all I have to say. I’m really feeling uninspired. Not depressed (at least, no more than usual), just not in a chatty mood. I just thought I’d check in.

Well, I hope you’re faring better, avid reader!

Right, my burger’s ready. Must dash!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!