Stress Levels...

Do you know some people think I'm stressed? 

Apparently I'm quite cool in the waking world. I know my shit, I can fly with the best of them (and that's not street), and yet I have awful dreams and nightmares, I continue to bite my tongue in my sleep, and I can't eat anything without feeling quite ill. Perhaps I'll just stick to coffee and milkshakes. Who needs food anyway?

Pill, DarkHorse and I went to the pub last night to watch the game. It was nice, and it wasn't too busy. I was nearly asleep in my chair when the full-time whistle was blown. I have no idea why I zonked out so much, but the walk home woke me up for another three hours. 

Everytime I think about writing now it calms me. Well, not calms me. I start thinking about a world that's not our own, and a place that I control, and where the possibilities are becoming more and more plausible each day. They're not, but you know what I mean I hope. It's been the tiniest of sparks in my life of work and play, and it's certainly something new to focus on. 

I know I've started sounding like a madman recently. And 'one of those people' who talk about their books all the time, but I honestly don't mean to. There are lots and lots of scenes in my head just playing over and over, each time perfecting themselves, and the nasty ones get worse. Perhaps that's where the nightmares come from. 

I might go back on the Kalms. We'll see what happens tonight. 

Carpe Diem...

Cinema Grill...

I have to say, my blogs haven't really been about very much recently. Life, or my concept of it at least, as plateau'd waiting for the extraordinary to happen - and do you know what? The extraordinary happened...

There was a cinema trip, and a night out, and tonight there's dinner and a show. Things be coming up Milhouse. But anyway, starting from the top and finishing some time tomorrow (as work begins in just 15mins) Let's say that the cinema trip was a lovely way to wind down Hump Day. 

Catch a car ride with your friends, travel all the way to the Bay and hang out in a small and quiet pub, that's friendly and well stocked enough that we could have easily stayed to play cards. We drank and ate our fill (actually a lot more than our fill) to which some of us regretted it. Large Mixed Grills aren't the way to go. Tasty, but I couldn't have one every week. And yet Hot Dogs? Either way, we downed pints (bad idea) and ventured out into the brisk night air. Red discovered that she could hide, quite well inside my jacket, bag and all, and we found seats in the cinema to see Filth...

Now, I enjoyed that movie, it was funny, dark, and dramatic, a brilliant role of Mc-Cavoy's. It even showed you more, and less, than you were expecting to see all most all of the time. There was also a whole thing where all of the music was a cover of something else and some underlying themes stretching throughout. I would get all studenty on it, but I'm not a student, so fuck-it. And now we all know the definition of Furious Masturbation.

But I digress. Time has now run out, and I require to tell you all about Friday Night and then tonight also. Please stay tuned for the next installment of The Extraordinary Life of the Swingers...

Carpe diem...

Chin Up...

My mood has not improved despite quite a restful night sleep. What's wrong with me this week?!

Yesterday, or last night if you will, Tag, Cherry, Red, Pill, and I went to the pub, the new look Western, only slightly brighter than the old look Western. And it's brilliant how alcohol can improve a bad day. That's a bad sentence to say, but damn, it does...

We ate, sang, mid-air humped to Whistle While I Work It, and defused texts all in the name of cool and sexiness. I showed the girls at work WWIWI and they loved it, starting to mid-air hump and sing and everything in the staff room. And a nice time, more or less, was had.

Now, the other day, and he brought it up last night, Pill mentioned something that I thought was quite, not poetic, it's not poetic at all, but it is kind of motivating, and gear grinding at the same time. Just write, was what he essentially said, just write. It doesn't matter what you write, what you have written, what you're feeling or any of that shit. Have deadlines, have off days, and have crap writing. Nothing's perfect, nothing ever will be. It won't work out the way you want it to half the time, but you've got to do it to realise that it won't work. You've just got to go, set out, and write muthafucker. Or else, how can you call yourself a writer? That's how real writers do it. They don't sit down and plan all the time, they just sit down, every day, and write something. They give themselves deadlines every week, and they keep to those deadlines or else what's the point?

Quite right Pill, quite right. As it is in life, so too shall it be in writing. 

I've decided I'm not going to visit the person Tag's colleague was trying to set me up with, and no it's not just because of the name. I did try visiting her yesterday to no avail. No, I'm not going to go visit her a. because it's Tag's colleague trying to set me up and not Tag, b. because she fancied Tag first, and c. because let's be honest, it's the name. You try saying your parent's name in the throws of passion. It doesn't make for a pretty picture.

I know I'm no arsehole, I've tried doing that, and it didn't work out then. I'm me. I can be a dick sometimes, but I'm more than likely going to be labelled as a nice guy, and that image conjures up thoughts of jumpers and ties, in coupley dinner parties, holding a glass of orange juice due to being the designated driver, and glasses for some reason - not sure why. Right now, I just want to be a dinosaur again, like I did when I was five.

All in all, I'm not ready yet. I haven't slimmed down to my fullest, I haven't bulked out to my maxest, and I haven't become my bestest yet. I'm not as bad as I was, very encouraging words indeed. 

Let's roll on Sunday then.

Carpe diem...

Resentment On Gower...

Yesterday was my Mother's birthday, and as such, I traveled to Big End to wish her a lovely birthday. And then we went to Gower...

I'm not sure what my siblings bought her for a present, but I did see my brother's card. My brother hates being forced to do anything, very much like the rest of us (and we were already miserable being made to go to the beach), but when it comes to birthday cards that takes the biscuit in his book. He, like me, sees the birthday card as a useless item and thus we hardly ever buy them. This year he bought a 'Happy Birthday Son' card and scribbled out the word Son, and replaced it with the word Mum (subtle). The yellow sports card on the front of the card (a Lamborghini Aventador J), didn't influence his decision in card at all, because when Mum confronted him about it, he simply said 'cheapest'.

Dad drove, as he had a plan, and drive he did, an hour and a half into the Gower Peninsula, looking very pretty and Middle Earthian. I even got to see Bury Port from the other side of the estuary. And I thought that was quite cool.

We arrived at the King Arthur Hotel and set about sitting outside and eating lunch. I helplessly flirted with the staff (cooey!) and we moved on further into the Gower. I should add that the burger I had was massive, and the chips were quite nice. And there we were on the edge of the land. Mum fell down a hole, the drunk, and we all fell about laughing. And when we reached the beach she set about ordering us to sunbathe. My response being to point at a ruin I could see in the distance, and then a marker rock I saw on top of the cliffs. 'I'll be over there if you need me.'

Ben came with me and we discussed manly things like Lego Lord of the Rings, and other video games and computer schematics. It was a nice walk, but it only took and hour, and I didn't take enough photos. I dangled off cliff edges, looked out to see, and even tried to find a hole in the wall (Good Luck with that). We had Milkshakes and went back. I requested to be dropped at the station, you know that feeling you get of restlessness when you just want to be doing something else, somewhere else, with someone else? Well that came about and I returned home.

Pill was there and informed me he was out for the evening visiting his brother, so I set about watering the garden, and watching all the catch-up telly, before deciding to go shopping for BBQ food. And let's face it BBQ food, plus this weather, sprinkled with friends, after daily commitments, equals a good time. 

Today I'm talking to 60 kids or so about flying toys. I don't know what I'm going to say, but apparently they've got questions or something. I think I'm gonna need that BBQ.

I hate the beach...

Carpe diem...