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.