In Bed with Mah Donner Kebab

Well, something’s definitely up, as I feel just terrible. It’s sometimes hard to tell when you’re a binge-drinking alcoholic when you are genuinely ill (and not just suffering from yet another hangover), but I’m pretty sure this is the real deal. I’ve been in bed 24-hours and haven’t eaten. Or bathed. I finally have just had a dunk though, so I’m feeling a lot fresher. This definitely feels like the flu, or I guess it could also be… the other thing. I’m very drowsy and have been coughing a lot, so you never know. Due to me now having diabetes, it’s apparently more likely for me to catch these things and not react well to them. At the risk of sounding like the drama queen I am, if I don’t post again in a week or so, you’ll know something’s happened.

But, anyway, besides all that nonsense, I finally managed to pick up my medication on Wednesday, so I’ve been adjusting back to those. Maybe that’s what’s making me ill. I did miss a week-and-a-half’s worth, after all. The horrid “battery acid” dizziness that comes with accidentally going off antidepressants went almost immediately. That’s one good thing about Sertraline – they’re fast acting after you’ve missed a few.

Some drama seems to be brewing between me and my ex. I’ve not felt particularly inclined to stay in touch with her recently, for various reasons, and she now seems to be picking up on this. She tried calling me yesterday (we haven’t spoken over the phone in well over a year), but I didn’t answer. I’m just not emotionally, or physically, strong enough for this teenage drama b.s. at the moment. She’s never proven to be a particularly loyal friend, although not in a vindictive kind of way. She’s just frustratingly in her own little world and can barely find interest in the people around her. She’d deny this, of course, and start crying, therefore making it all about her, but it's true. Urgh. I just… can’t… be arsed.

My guitar guru and I are still chatting, although I keep expecting him to tell me to put a sock in it for a while. Unfortunately, there are limitless things to talk about if you’re into playing guitar, which is bad news for him. Oh well, I’ll try going quiet for a bit. I’m not after anything, I just get bored and lonely.

Speaking of guitar, I’ve started playing whilst stood up with the guitar strapped around me. I guess I just fancied trying something different, and I seem to be getting into this. There’s really no need for me to play this way, as it’s not like I’m in a band or anything but, well, sometimes just little tweaks to one’s life here and there can improve things and open the floodgates to inspiration!

I have been meaning to get a takeaway over these past few days but, because of my weird sleep pattern and feeling ill, I’ve not gotten around to it. They’ll not be opening for another eleven hours, so I should probably find something in the cupboard to snack on. Trying to decide which genre of food I fancy. Perhaps some Chinese.

Anyway, I’m going to leave it there, as this has been a bit of a struggle. I just felt like I needed to talk to someone, as it kinda sucks being ill when you’re all alone. I’ll be sure to post an update before next Sunday.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Primer

It’s hard to know quite where in space and time that I am right now. This is due to my having missed well over a week’s worth of medication. Accidental withdrawal of antidepressants isn’t the most fun thing in the world, I must say. Although, oddly enough, it is different, and sometimes different, even when unpleasant, can bring its own twisted reward. My sleep pattern is non-existent at this point. I have a few hours here and there, but I’m not sure whether I’m over or under-slept right now. I woke up yesterday around 5 pm and proceeded to cry as I organised a cup of coffee. I was Inconsolable for about an hour, then seemed to calm down. Nothing was wrong, in particular. it was just the withdrawals. I’m supposed to get a text message from the chemist when my tablets are ready for collection, but I’ve received nothing yet. Either they’ve lost my number once again, or there has just been a backlog between them and the surgery due to the Christmas/New Year shutdown.  I was going to order a lot of booze to arrive tomorrow… erm… later on today, to help me drive through this nightmarish headspace, but I soon realised what a terrible idea that was. So, basically, plenty of comfort food is on its way, including two boxes of fruit and fibre cereal. Do I know how to party, or what?!

I just had to check when I last made a post here, so I knew what to update you with.

New Year's Eve was as fun as it usually is. For me, at least. Being all grown up now, and an atheist, I have no interest whatsoever in Christmas. But New Year's Eve. Oh, New Year's Eve! That feeling of rebirth and starting again. Well, it just rubs me the right way. It’s as if we’re all like “Hey, we fucked up last year, so let’s just try again!”. I like that way of thinking. You should never keep going down a certain path just for the sake of it. The word “tradition”, like family, is one of the most dangerous words in the English language, or any language, for that matter. Cast off the past and start afresh! It’s really all we have. Do you think we learn something by remembering the Holocaust? Do you know how many genocides there’s been SINCE the Holocaust?! Lots. We never learn, so all we can do is grieve, move on and try better next time.

Woah, how did we get to genocide?! Right, let’s chill things out a little…

So, yes, I got plenty plastered on New Year's Eve. Whilst the cacophony of fireworks were intoxicating my sonic pallet, I definitely remember going out into the stairwell and shouting something to the rest of the tenants. I don’t know what I shouted, but I was sure having a blast. That’s how exited New Year's Eve makes me. I want to shout to people. Crazy, huh?! I’m expecting my antisocial behaviour letter from the council any day now.

The plan for the evening had been to watch three films in the original Star Trek movie series, the three I call the “David trilogy”, including II, III and VI. Hopefully, if you’re a fan, you’ll understand why. If not, then let me know and I’ll explain next time. I don’t remember much about watching II, and VI had hardly started before I must have passed out. I think I passed out multiple times during the evening. I even ordered a Chinese takeaway, like, half an hour before midnight. Smooth. It’s ok, I gave the driver a £10 tip, so hopefully that made up for it.

Oh! That’s it! I went to the pub for the afternoon! I was trying to think how my celebrations started. Yes, I turned up for their midday opening time, and left way before it got dark. I must have then passed out once getting home, then started on the Star Trek films. I wasn’t really expecting to stay up until midnight but, through a series of drunken blackouts, I managed it. I made various videos throughout the day and posted them on YouTube, but I’ve now only left the first one public. I got pretty incoherent.

See, I felt crap a few minutes ago when I started typing this, but now I’m all excited! Sigh. Mood swings sure are… well… something.

My guitar guru/old work colleague and I are now in regular daily contact. I even bought a second guitar off him, which arrived a few days ago. It’s a make of guitar I’ve never owned before, so I thought I’d go cheap to begin with, just to see if I liked them, and he was selling one from their budget line so, as they say, two birds. Everybody wins. Well, it’s a lovely sounding instrument, although strangely light and small-scale. I’ll consider upgrading to a premium model, but I already have another custom build guitar in the works, so I’ll wait until… you know… I snap in a few weeks. I’m not sure where things are going with my guitar guru, friendship-wise. He’s straight and married with a kid, so I’m not expecting romance but, well, I guess I just like to know where I stand with people, and what the future may bring. I’m a bit anal like.

I’ve had no contact with my old gaming buddy since New Year's Eve. I don’t think I said anything rude. Anyway, even if I did, he prides himself on not being offended or upset by anything that people say or do to him, so I’m guessing he’s just wandered off again. I’ve really lost interest, to be honest. It’s the same with my ex – if that’s their idea of friendship, then I don’t want their friendship.

I finished that Great Courses lecture series on Ancient Egypt this week. I got genuinely emotional by the end. As mentioned in my last post, Bob Brier is such an amazing teacher, and his enthusiasm is genuinely infectious. You just have to get past his harsh Bronx brogue. But it’s worth it. I’ve gone back to “page one”, as I do, so hopefully I’ll pick up on anything I missed in my first listen. History nonfiction has become my new bedtime read, replacing the Discworld books and, before those, Tolkien’s Middle-earth series and, before those, general radio podcasts. I need something to keep me company in bed. It’s just one of my things.

Having enjoyed Dr Brier’s guide through Ancient Egypt, I decided to buy up as many fictional movies as I could on the theme. They range from classic Hollywood romances to b.s. modern “family” animation. There’s precious few available, to be honest, so if anyone wants to hire me to write a screenplay about a niche period in Egyptian history, then Bob’s gotten me well primed! I think I’d like to see one about the Akhenaten heresy, but do it from the perspective of the common Egyptian. Epic scenes of kings spouting lofty exposition aren’t all that fun for me. So, yes, I think those films should be arriving later on today. I shall endeavour to report back.

Oh, I’ve started having baths. I haven’t had regular baths in ten years, having become more of a “shower guy” but, after seeing how disgusting my shower curtain had become, I decided to just throw it out immediately and take baths until a replacement arrived. Well, the replacement has arrived, but I’ve not taken it out of its packaging yet. I’m actually enjoying having baths. They’re great for this time of year, as you can just stew in hot water for ages, rather than fighting to keep warm under a lukewarm, low-pressure shower. I may have entered a new phase in my life altogether, due to this. “The Age of Jim Taking Baths”. Exciting, huh?! I feel like a kid again. A fat, awkward, hairy, smelly, depressed kid. Good times.

Over the past twenty-four hours, my antidepressant withdrawals have really messed with my interest in my hobbies. I did some guitar practice today, but I was really phoning it in. This is why I almost turned to booze, as I’ll probably be bored until I can pick up my prescription. Not knowing quite what part of the day I’m in is also very disorientating, as my routine, for what it was, has been completely thrown into a cocked hat. Frig does that saying even mean?! Anyway, I’m just doing what I can to pass the time between small bouts of sleep, which is very frustrating. While I like having order even less, I like having no order at all rather trying.

Righty-ho, I think I’ve come to a natural stop here. Fingers crossed that, by my next post, I’ll be back to “normal” again, and not having random crying fits and sleeping in two-hour shifts.

I hope you are all fairing better.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

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!