Drained Of Life...

Without a shadow of a doubt, I don't think I've ever been this tired before in my life (undoubtedly I've said that before when I've been tired, but roll with it)...

It must have been about 3am when the headache began, and then the ghosting dreams, and then I remember hearing Pill moving around in his room before slamming the door to go to work at 6am, and then upstairs' alarm went off at 7:10am, and then finally mine at 7:30am. 

My eyes are bloodshot, and it doesn't really bode well for my 4:30am start tomorrow. Roystone yo! Maybe I'll just pack tonight at call it a 5am start. That doesn't make it sound any better. 

Either way, I'm now ready for work. Work you say? But Tuesday is your day off? True, true, it is. But then it's not a full day of work either. 10-12:30ish. It's for more training (for the good news at work thing), which means I won't get an actual day off until Saturday, which also means I didn't savour my last day off last Wednesday.

I'm just complaining because I'm tired. I wouldn't describe myself as grumpy, more like irritable. 

And because I'm tired I can't really think of anything else to say (just being honest).

I'll tell you what, last week was a very awesome week in the life of me. From Bake Off Bolognese, to Drinks, to Drinks and Hitchhikers, to Drinks and Lap Dances. This week is currently struggling under it's own weight, and I'll be glad to take it out the back and put it out of its own misery. However, with all the fatigue and shit, I can appreciate that the Birthday Month is almost upon me (and Red) and as of yet I've not got any plans, but then when do I do? 

Perhaps just a nice meal at the Meating Place or the Potted Pig. Hmm, maybe we should arrange Viva Brazil for next weekend?

Would you look at that, I managed to talk about something else. Have a nice day guys...

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. 

Purge Me Now!...

*disclaimer: the thoughts and opinions in this blog are entirely my own and no one else's, unless of course they are Red's.

...that just looks painful. What did they do to deserve that punishment?...

FUCK! I just burnt my fingers on the Iron!...

First thoughts; what a bloody moron, he's just asking to be killed in the Purge because he's such an idiot. But when I say, I wasn't ironing, and the iron was left, abandoned in the living room, plugged into the wall, and switched on, I don't sound like such a fool. Okay, but how did you burn your fingers? You might ask. Well, this is pretty much the moronic bit. I stroke the iron plate almost every morning, to determine whether or not Pill has ironed, and how long ago it was. I know that's stupid/creepy/odd, but I think you'll agree, I'm quite a tactile person.

And apart from that little insight into my weirdness, my hair has started falling out, I think the dent in my head is getting bigger. Is this all a part of getting older?

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I can be normal. When I'm quiet, mostly, but how rare is that? I've started restraining myself in the sickness, racist, any-kind-of-joke-way that I attempt to do when I feel there needs to be a laugh somewhere there doesn't really need to be one. I've done this mainly at the daily commitments, but every little helps.

I'm just having one of those weeks I think. I've been slaving all weekend, and now into the week, the general staff are all back and I think something strange has gone down because everyone's in a very focused life view of things. Even when I got into the back of Tag's car on Sunday I had managed to piss of everyone by being there, to be fair, I had been fucking with Red the entire time (do I mean that figuratively or literally? - again, too far? Ignore me). Then I was aggressively asked why I was looking at another menu instead of the one we were going to be ordering from? (the food wasn't quite right, you are correct in thinking that). I sat on the arm chair away from people, and watched The Returned. It was good, but it wasn't the grand finale I thought it was going to be, but it is somewhat going the way of Lost I think (i.e. Channel 4 has it now, but after series 2 Sky will buy it and force us to wait even longer for outcomes). We've also, now got to be friends in a year's time, as paraphrased/quoted from someone else. Which, if you think about it, a lot can happen in a year. For instance, this time last year, HB wasn't talking to me, I was on the dole, quiet, lonely, and living at home. Also LYMPICS! A lot can happen in a year. 

Apparently I need to be more confident. I thought I was confident, but maybe I've been straying into the land of arrogance and ignorance far too often. Am I a racist? Probably not, I think I hate equal numbers of everyone from every background and origin. I'm really pissed off that a Thief got away with something I and a few others stopped him doing on more than four separate occasions.

And after the Returned, we watched the Purge. I don't think I had much interest in the film in the first place, and I didn't know much about it, but when the opening credits bit occurred and told me the ENTIRE premise I was amazed it even got green lit. I don't like Ethan Hawke at the best of times, from Dead Poets to Daybreakers. He looks odd, he moves funnily, and he's always seemed slimy. SPOILER ALERT he dies in this film for a stupid reason too, but I think I'm getting ahead of myself. 

The idea behind the film being, just one night a year everything illegal, becomes legal, just to get the animal urges to kill, rape, murder, shag lampposts, and shit on lawns out of the way for the rest of the year. Oh, and this rule only applies to 'Merica! because why the fuck not. And quite frankly, as someone said, that sort of idea wouldn't even spring to mind in the the thoughts of Our Parliament. They'd just bring back the death penalty, easier, simpler, and the people who have done things wrong, get to pay for their crimes, and not the Purge. A film about the 1% killing the 99% due to increased funds, fun, and guns. Unemployment low, due to the unemployed and homeless getting killed every Purge Night lacking the means to defend themselves, economy okay due to not having the unemployed and homeless to support, way of life okay until Purge Night when you all say its okay until someone breaks in, tries to murder you and then rape your corpses. It's a stupid fucking film. Can we watch something actually scary/jumpy next week that gets us thinking there are things in the dark?

I don't know, maybe I'm just in a bad mood for some reason. Tag thought something was up, over coffee yesterday morning. I don't think anything's up, but now I've thought about it, maybe. I've had a night-out cancelled this week, but Pill's Friday Get-Together is going to be one, who knew?!

Who had bets on whether Pill would do the washing up and tidying from Friday/Saturday nights? I returned yesterday to the same state it was in when I left it Sunday Morning. Nut shells on the table, beer can discarded and empty next to that, (right where I left you) washing up littering the sink and oven top, towels on the floor in the bathroom (not where I left you).

Perhaps I'm just being a bit of a pushover buying people shit, doing things for them, and then being a dick about it the entire time. Or maybe I'm not. What, what? Anyone got any thoughts?

Carpe diem...