Hep C And Some Blood...

There's no breakfast in the house, so I'd best make this a quick one, but not really, because who needs food? All those adverts telling us that it'll keep us full until lunchtime are bullshit. They keep me okay until about midday, I grant you, but midday ain't my lunchtime!...

It was a typical day yesterday, until someone mentioned Kingdom of Sweets to me. Isn't that closed now? And indeed it was, unless you were a St David's employee, for then you could waltz up to the doors, all boarded up, flash your St David's Card at the bouncer, or your uniform like I did, and enter into the carnage on the other side. Tens of people scrambling for the open-air pick-a-mix, the shelves just about bare save for a few items. I grabbed a couple of things and then got asked what I had on me, money wise. The answer 'about £4.50' caused the cashier to grab my bag and fill it with all kinds of goodies, to the brim, and she simply said, that'll be £4.50. I may have got a lot of sweets, but the majority of them are crappy, american, and some what odd. Who makes fruity caramel? I mean really!

Either way, it was cinema night, and I had to run out of work and carefully saunter to the car, where the others were eagerly awaiting my arrival. We almost crashed when I climbed in and Tag pulled off, but hey, he was caught up in the moment, and I think the Corsa wanted the space. We sped to the Bay, and strutted through the cinema as if we owned the place, which for the most part we did. The kids went back to school, and the place was quite empty. We got good seats on account of the movie being released two weeks or so ago, and we settled in for some bloody gore...

And bloody gore we got, there were knives, machetes, axes, hammers, nails (ha! you deserved it), a screwdriver set, and a crossbow with only two bolts or something. It also gave us sex and boobs in the first scene and sort of tried to continue for the next ten or fifteen minutes, but alas, ain't no body got time for that. And after the initial jumps and scares, animal masks and everything, the movie sort of took a turn for the Home Alone (there's nails in that too). A poor stranded Aussie girl, trying to save herself from home invaders and... 

*SPOILER ALERT* 

half the family she thought she was going to have a good time with. 'You don't know how lucky you are to have parents like yours.'

We started rooting for everyone to die, and when that bad guy jumped through the window on to the nail, I threw my arms in the air with joyous intent. It was a bad film, but it really did engage and encourage us to join in. I like to think I would at least try and fight the invaders. They looked a bit pants. And I don't think, if I had the upper hand, that I would let any of them live just to kill them a little later and stretch out the plot. Wasn't the Tiger Mask the one that got stabbed in the kitchen, and then later kicked in the bollocks, and bludgeoned with the Meat Tenderizer? 

Thank the Lord there isn't room for a sequel. Sure she survived, but going all Exorcism of Emily Rose on that shit, ain't gonna happen... 

*END OF SPOILERS*

Either way, we exited, happy in the fact that we engaged with the film, and wandered to Chicken House, as per tradition. Although it was only 9pm, and there were people there. We like the place to ourselves, we like the exclusivity 11pm gives us. We made our way to Spoons to somewhat quench our thirst while we waited, and then accidentally ordered food. I have to say, the Mount Stuart has nothing on the Western, or the Gatekeeper for that matter. The drinks are okay, but the tables are always sticky, and the food is somewhat under par. At least give me my own knife and fork and not expect me to get it from the dusty rack over by the bar. Also, lipstick stains on the wine glass, a clear indication of Hep C which as Tag said will give us all Hep C due to Cherry giving it to Tag, Tag to me, and then I shall inevitably give it to Red (I don't know how, and I don't know when, but you're gonna get some - yo gurl, how you doing?). 

But, creepiness aside, it was a nice night, but the food left more to be desired. Perhaps we could just grab some Subways and eat at the secret beach next time? Dominoes pizza and Red's flat? 

Just a thought. Anyway, I might go find some breakfast now. Perhaps try that new Tesco by the station, apparently it's massive. I shall be the judge of that...

Carpe diem...

Normality?...

So, it turns out in the black recesses of the night, I still have dark thoughts. It actually turns out that in the bright gloom of the afternoon sun, I also have dark thoughts. For instance I was walking home yesterday, and I wondered what it would be like to get hit by a speeding car, if it jumped the red light as I was crossing the road...

I'm not sure whether that was a dark thought or just me trying to envisage the scene and the feelings and the hurt involved, both physically, emotionally, and mentally. I think I'm probably weird for that thought alone, but then even while Pill was here I continued the stream of badness. It turns out, I have to be told something's a secret for me not to tell anyone else about it. I think that annoys Pill the most about me. Perhaps there is something mentally wrong with me. Will I go see someone about it? Probably not, because I don't think there's anything wrong with me. Every human being has the capability of imagining and experiencing exactly the same things, given time. I suppose the car hitting one is most influential because of my father and grandmother. But hey, maybe not.

I also came to the conclusion, whilst talking to workmates, that I'm not the best when it comes to series decisions, topics, or life-altering events. If you ask me anything along those lines, my mouth (which is already a stupid talking tool) says something I don't mean, or a blue joke no-one gets but me, and I ultimately look stupid. However, give me a day to think about things, maybe even shorter on occasion, and I can give you my actual opinion and feelings towards the matter at hand. I'm stupid, and quite emotionally retarded when it comes to most things actually. And I have no idea why...

Or perhaps I'm just being silly and questioning things that aren't there, or normal things altogether. Pill made me sit and watch Pirates yesterday. It wasn't unpleasant, but as I'm going on a home-visit on the weekend (not sure which day) he wants me to bring back the other two Pirates, that aren't on Netflix. 

I'm already missing the sun. Soon it'll be autumn, where walks through the park will be even more colourful, birthdays, Halloween, bonfire night, are all going to be awesome, and then it'll be the hugging weather, and the best time of year (behind summer obvs), Christmas. A time of warmth, love, caring, and even more fun. I think this has been the best year so far, a year where I've actually been able to do stuff, lots of stuff, and not regret a single expenditure. But I'll save the summary for New Year's Day, like always...

Until then, Carpe diem...

Push The Button...

One day more, another day another destiny!...

And now comes the final day of my week, before I can press the big fat reset button that resides in Saturday's newspaper, and forget the bollocks that's happened this week, purely because I wasn't in the mood for it. Hopefully that'll do it, and hopefully I'll be able to eat properly again, and sleep, and generally be myself (unless this is myself, in which case - dun, dun  DUN! - too meta?)

Yesterday was the same old same old, and I got to hang out with Pill and his mate Lee for a while after the daily commitments. It was cool, just sitting and talking politics, work, philosophy, and a great deal more with them. I couldn't be bothered to cook again, and I haven't really managed to stomach anything for most of the week. That might be one of the factors for my mood I suppose - but at least I'll be nice and thin by comic-con if this feeling doesn't go away. Always got to look on the positive side of things. 

Though (and I don't mean this) I did just think about writing a joke about how dying would be the next positive thing to happen to me, which when you put it like that it certainly sounds funny...

Anyway, tomorrow I hope to wake up at a reasonable hour and just relax. No daily commitments, no nothing to do, just sit and calm the fuck down Bridget! 

I think I need another adventure soon. Perhaps when the sun comes back in September. I don't know where I'll go, but I think I might need some new scenery or something. Perhaps I won't. I remember following Jimbo in the dark of winter through a bog, and I lost my shoe in sub-zero temperatures, and then we stumbled on a milking plant and almost got chased by dogs and men, as we climbed through barbed wire fences. I also remember falling down a mountain and bouncing off every tree on the way down, but that's another story I'm sure...

As Red has announced and shown her challenged fiction, 6 Poems, I wish to say that I have at least made a start on my real-world fiction. I think it's going to be called "Bute Wall" (a working title) and its obviously set in Cardiff (write what you know). I'm not going to give anything else away, but I think it's going to be a short-ish story about hope and hopelessness (how very deep of me - is it?).

That's what fills my evenings now, Pill goes to bed, and I sit up writing. It's quite pleasant. We don't share the same bed, although that sentence could be read that way. It reminds me of the uni days, except I'm purely using a pen and paper, and an iPod helps too.

But anyway, I think I've babbled on a bit now. See you on the new dawn...

Carpe diem...

P.S. Sorry for being a dick the other night. 

Ice Creams and the Art of Bending Over...

Today is a very pretty day. Today is very warm. Today I went to town.

Well, when I say went to town, I mean I walked, and when I say I, I mean we. For it was I and some flatmates (Tag, Bells, and Scurvy). And we thought the need for ice cream was indeed needed. And Thorntons do some great ice cream.

But less of that. I'm well today. Despite on the way back from said town I injured my back by either bending too low or standing too wide for a quick duck under a fence. It ached quite a bit, and all the way up the stairs, and when I unlocked the door, and when I showered, and as I sit here now. Oh well, at least I'm writing.

And now we return to the 'writing for the sake of writing' thing. Here being a 'Creative Writing' Student, you'd think I'd have had enough of writing for writing's sake. The truth: NO! Not only don't we do enough, writing for writing's sake, but they also expect us to explain and analyse what ever we do write for writing's well not sake, let's call it purpose. It's silly really. But then I don't have to complain about it for a fair few months yet when year 3 comes about.

Moving on to a deeper conversation:

I've noticed recently that most of my friends, and indeed myself, have lost or are losing someone this year. I know that might be insensitive of me to say, but it's true. And it's made me think about my own mortality. Earlier in the week - before I created this blog, I wrote about such the topic in my notebook:

'The words on a page, they mean nothing, they mean everything. We write to show things, to feel things, to know things. 'Time is an illusion, Lunchtime doubly so.' This is a Douglas Adams quote. But why? I'm not saying he's a lucky and intelligent man, but I am suggesting it. Douglas Adams was a legend, is a legend.

'Where am I going with this? I don't know. Something to do with writing for the sake of writing [...]

(There it is again, it's like Bad Wolf or something - Hi Tag. Anyway Continuing on.)

'[...] Have you ever heard of those monkeys who write Shakespeare. This is like that. I'm writing until I write that line of brilliance, that one line which will be quoted though the ages - that line like 'Eureka' or 'Hello' or that Douglas Adams line about time [...]

(Okay, they were more like words, if you need examples go find them for yourselves - I'm just quoting myself and I'm not going to edit it!)

'[...] I don't know. I really want to be remembered by other people, other than my friends and family. I just want to be remembered by the world. How can I do that? Make a movie? Cure world hunger? Cure all diseases? Make the third world just a part of the world? To become immortal. What is that? My father always told my sister, brother, and I that he was immortal. He was immortal because he had us. And we would take his genes and his name on into the future. But then, my father always thought that he wouldn't get married, but then my mother is proof of his false thought. But either way, what is immortality? To last forever. I'm not sure whether or not I'd like to. To be remembered forever, now that's the fame I would like, not like the flatpack celebs of today. Famous for the sake of being famous. I want to be famous because people want me to be famous. And in being famous I will meet people. I hope I've already had an impact on the people I have already met. Some of them say so, but then I don't believe it, ever. I should really ask the people I've met most recently. Perhaps Chaplin [...]

(Okay, I didn't actually call her Chaplin, that's me going back on my word of non-editing. Oh well.)

'[...] would know, but then I only met her for a day and a half - and then there was all that sleep writing thing. Dream Sequences were written because of Chaplin and he whole being. It's quite bizarre for such an infatuation. But then I suppose the same thing happened with Cleever [...]

(Yes okay, I'm mostly editing, but just the names mind. Carry on.)

'[...] They both had boyfriend troubles before they met me. Does that mean I fix other people's relationships? Unintentionally? God damnit, why do I seem to repel pretty women? And not only that, but repair their broken relationships as well???!'

And that is where I got to. I think it might answer some questions about mortality and remembrance. Don't you you?

Anyway, I don't know where I was going with that. Perhaps the next post will include a lot less ranting and raving, and sleep poetry - and might include some actual coherent thoughts on a page. What do you think? You're probably right, it wont.

But that's me, until next time bloggers...