What a superb year it has been. For me, that is. Generally it's been a vicious, murderous, unrepentant year of horror, death and deprivation... but that's most years isn't it? I'm not proud to be part of the human race and rarely invite them round to dinner (thanks Doug).
Fuck knows what 2012 will bring, beyond this coming Saturday night I have no firm plans whatsoever... something will turn up, it usually does, and it usually costs money.
Christmas has been quiet, as I prefer it. Having spent most of 2011 in a state of chemically-induced anaesthesia I thought, why stop now? So I've spent the last few days steadily numbing myself. A blinding night out on 17th with most of the usual suspects and much silliness and falling down was my socialising swansong of the year, this is hibernation time now. I have a 'plan' for next year's blogging but probably won't stick to it so I don't even know why I'm writing this... Ooh, very self-defeating!
For reasons I myself find difficult to explain, I have listened to the following piece of music every new year's eve since 1985, usually just after midnight. Nine and a half minutes of sublime genius. Enjoy.
And have Happy Future Days! There will be much more Sketchiness in 2012, stay tuned...
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Thursday, 29 December 2011
Monday, 5 December 2011
Sweaty Cocks
Hahahahah... I've just changed the welcome message on my mobile phone to SWEATY COCKS!!
Haaahahahaha. :)
sorry, just trying to lighten the mood...
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Haaahahahaha. :)
sorry, just trying to lighten the mood...
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From Where I Am
So, well then, here we are. I’ve made it to day no. 339 of 2011 and the current state of play is as follows…
My 47th Christmas is just under three weeks away and I have, as yet, developed no real enthusiasm for, or interest in planning how I am going to approach it this year. For the first time in my life I am due to be working on Christmas day. Not being a Christian I am untroubled by any concerns that I may be missing the opportunity to worship and be thankful… I am however somewhat concerned that this means I probably won’t be able to start drinking alcohol quite as early as I usually do on 25th December, i.e. shortly after breakfast.
(I say ‘probably’ because I may well smuggle a hipflask to work and partake of something warming just to be bloody minded and in the hope that they wouldn’t sack someone on Christmas day… would they?)*
The reality of ‘working on Christmas day’ usually means either not going in at all or getting sent home after about 2 hours, or so I’m told. I remain firmly sceptical of this as the person who told me - the main site manager - has consistently lied about everything else this year so why would he change tack now?
Due to the past several months being peppered with extremely hard work, very long hours** and lots of very intense socialising I am feeling generally run-down and a bit depressed… most of this is my own fault, some of it is work and the generally short, cold, grey days this time of year do little to excite me. I am dealing with this by self-medicating with a range of illicit substances. It is only helping in a short-term way, which isn’t quite bad enough to convince me to stop.
Most of my immediate family, no, actually - ALL of my immediate family died at this time of year (the most recent departure being three weeks ago, I didn’t attend the funeral. I don’t do funerals any more. The next one I attend will be my own, if you can call that ‘attending’) So I generally feel a bit low through November/December/January as I firmly associate this time with gloom, death and constipation.
My huge plans for next year involving relocation of life and career will probably have to be put on hold for various reasons. Again. This is not helping my general mood as it gives me little to look forward to apart from more of the same.
Things keep breaking. Some of them are easily fixed (trodden-on spectacles can be gently manipulated back into shape. I discovered this yesterday), some are not (broken windows can be temporarily fixed using cardboard and duct-tape, however this is not very aesthetically pleasing or particularly weather-proof), others cause emotional distress but aren’t particularly important overall (dropping the mug with a childishly endearing poem about hugging on it which I bought for my girlfriend in 1990 when she was 21 and which she used every single day afterwards didn’t really go down very well. My protestations that she was lucky it had lasted this long didn’t help.) and some are bloody expensive (damn you cooker, you’ve left me penniless for Christmas)
And another year slides slowly to a bewildering conclusion. Bewilderment, however, is my normal state of mind so I’m cool with that. Everyone I know is either trapped in a low paid job they find vaguely distasteful and constantly inconvenient or they’re out of work wondering where the next meal is going to come from (that plastic pot which says ‘Pot Noodle’ probably). Several of them are on medication for depression. Yes - SEVERAL - which is depressing in itself. Not sure what that says about being friends with me either.
BUT, onwards and…er… onwards. This is the point where I begin a mild panic over Christmas which lasts until the day itself when I banish all concerns using a mixture of vast amounts of alcohol, vast amounts of food and moderate amounts of tobacco and other herbal smoking mixtures… then I spend a week feeling like shit, then it’s a new year, a whole new 365 days to fuck up.
I can hardly wait.
Here's a cute winter picture to cheer us all up. See you next time.
* Probably.
** Obviously all the hours were the same length, what I mean is that there have been too many difficult hours running consecutively. ‘Long hours’, what a ridiculous phrase, sometimes I’m embarrassed to be English. I better get used to that feeling for 2012 I suppose…but I digress…
.
My 47th Christmas is just under three weeks away and I have, as yet, developed no real enthusiasm for, or interest in planning how I am going to approach it this year. For the first time in my life I am due to be working on Christmas day. Not being a Christian I am untroubled by any concerns that I may be missing the opportunity to worship and be thankful… I am however somewhat concerned that this means I probably won’t be able to start drinking alcohol quite as early as I usually do on 25th December, i.e. shortly after breakfast.
(I say ‘probably’ because I may well smuggle a hipflask to work and partake of something warming just to be bloody minded and in the hope that they wouldn’t sack someone on Christmas day… would they?)*
The reality of ‘working on Christmas day’ usually means either not going in at all or getting sent home after about 2 hours, or so I’m told. I remain firmly sceptical of this as the person who told me - the main site manager - has consistently lied about everything else this year so why would he change tack now?
Due to the past several months being peppered with extremely hard work, very long hours** and lots of very intense socialising I am feeling generally run-down and a bit depressed… most of this is my own fault, some of it is work and the generally short, cold, grey days this time of year do little to excite me. I am dealing with this by self-medicating with a range of illicit substances. It is only helping in a short-term way, which isn’t quite bad enough to convince me to stop.
Most of my immediate family, no, actually - ALL of my immediate family died at this time of year (the most recent departure being three weeks ago, I didn’t attend the funeral. I don’t do funerals any more. The next one I attend will be my own, if you can call that ‘attending’) So I generally feel a bit low through November/December/January as I firmly associate this time with gloom, death and constipation.
My huge plans for next year involving relocation of life and career will probably have to be put on hold for various reasons. Again. This is not helping my general mood as it gives me little to look forward to apart from more of the same.
Things keep breaking. Some of them are easily fixed (trodden-on spectacles can be gently manipulated back into shape. I discovered this yesterday), some are not (broken windows can be temporarily fixed using cardboard and duct-tape, however this is not very aesthetically pleasing or particularly weather-proof), others cause emotional distress but aren’t particularly important overall (dropping the mug with a childishly endearing poem about hugging on it which I bought for my girlfriend in 1990 when she was 21 and which she used every single day afterwards didn’t really go down very well. My protestations that she was lucky it had lasted this long didn’t help.) and some are bloody expensive (damn you cooker, you’ve left me penniless for Christmas)
And another year slides slowly to a bewildering conclusion. Bewilderment, however, is my normal state of mind so I’m cool with that. Everyone I know is either trapped in a low paid job they find vaguely distasteful and constantly inconvenient or they’re out of work wondering where the next meal is going to come from (that plastic pot which says ‘Pot Noodle’ probably). Several of them are on medication for depression. Yes - SEVERAL - which is depressing in itself. Not sure what that says about being friends with me either.
BUT, onwards and…er… onwards. This is the point where I begin a mild panic over Christmas which lasts until the day itself when I banish all concerns using a mixture of vast amounts of alcohol, vast amounts of food and moderate amounts of tobacco and other herbal smoking mixtures… then I spend a week feeling like shit, then it’s a new year, a whole new 365 days to fuck up.
I can hardly wait.
Here's a cute winter picture to cheer us all up. See you next time.
* Probably.
** Obviously all the hours were the same length, what I mean is that there have been too many difficult hours running consecutively. ‘Long hours’, what a ridiculous phrase, sometimes I’m embarrassed to be English. I better get used to that feeling for 2012 I suppose…but I digress…
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Thursday, 10 November 2011
Another One Bites the Dust
RIP The Western Black Rhino, officially now declared extinct. Thanks in the main to poaching. Go humans, another couple of centuries and we'll be eating each other because there won't be anything else left.
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Wednesday, 9 November 2011
You Don't Have a Clue
Wow, it must be that time of the year again... I always seem to become lazy and unmotivated through the winter, I guess it's only natural... so this blog will probably be patchy and even more rubbish than usual for a while before springing back to life around March next year. (Heh, see what I did there?)
I made a decision last January that 2011 was going to be a year of excess and hedonism, and found it very easy to stick with that decision! Yes, quite a childish way for someone in their mid 40s to behave perhaps, but this year has been one of those 'end of an era' years. I've been aware for a while that change is on the horizon, it's happening crushingly slowly but the wheels are turning nonetheless and 2012 is going to be a year of hard work. Bugger. I hate it when a party ends, but always ensure I'm the last to leave, dragging it out beyond all necessity. As outlined in an earlier post this was also a year-long celebration of an important anniversary (yeah I know - any excuse!).
Something strange - two pubs in particular have featured heavily in this year's nonsense, two very different pubs in very different places with a very different clientele but both friendly, fun and reasonably cheap. And just as my 'summer of love' was winding to a close, they both unexpectedly closed within a week of each other! It's as though life is ensuring all temptation is removed now, what the hell? Or maybe I broke them. Very odd, and very sad, one of them has featured heavily in my life since 1981. Damn, it must be time to grow up, I always knew this day would come.
So, a few months of biding my time now before turning in a new direction. I'm gonna take things easy for a while, build reserves and get fat. Yeah. Meantime I will attempt to keep this place alive, the occasional CPR session should just about keep it ticking over.
This says it all :
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I made a decision last January that 2011 was going to be a year of excess and hedonism, and found it very easy to stick with that decision! Yes, quite a childish way for someone in their mid 40s to behave perhaps, but this year has been one of those 'end of an era' years. I've been aware for a while that change is on the horizon, it's happening crushingly slowly but the wheels are turning nonetheless and 2012 is going to be a year of hard work. Bugger. I hate it when a party ends, but always ensure I'm the last to leave, dragging it out beyond all necessity. As outlined in an earlier post this was also a year-long celebration of an important anniversary (yeah I know - any excuse!).
Something strange - two pubs in particular have featured heavily in this year's nonsense, two very different pubs in very different places with a very different clientele but both friendly, fun and reasonably cheap. And just as my 'summer of love' was winding to a close, they both unexpectedly closed within a week of each other! It's as though life is ensuring all temptation is removed now, what the hell? Or maybe I broke them. Very odd, and very sad, one of them has featured heavily in my life since 1981. Damn, it must be time to grow up, I always knew this day would come.
So, a few months of biding my time now before turning in a new direction. I'm gonna take things easy for a while, build reserves and get fat. Yeah. Meantime I will attempt to keep this place alive, the occasional CPR session should just about keep it ticking over.
This says it all :
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Saturday, 1 October 2011
Let's Get It On
Saturday afternoon - 1st October - 28 degrees outside in the burning sunshine, I know, but let's not question it, eh? Decamping to a friend's flat in a couple of hours to meet up with other nutters in order to drink beer, eat takeaway and watch Dr Who...
Thenceforth into town (luckily the flat is actually in the centre of town so this involves, er, going downstairs) where more friends will be met and much more alcohol consumed, no doubt in several establishments... later still, avoiding the numerous grunting semi-evolved hominids intent on violence, we'll make our way to some form of dancing venue, consume still more alcohol and 'dance' for a bit.... I will attempt, probably half-heartedly, to avoid the brain-shredders known as Jagerbombs (ohhh, but they taste so good... and have the effect of class A drugs... not that that has anything to do with it of course. Heh)
One thing which always happens to me around this point in the evening is that I lose the ability to control any kind of basic device, ie mobile phones... there is almost always a point where someone goes awol and the cry goes out "Capt! Call Dave, find out where he is!" and after fumbling incompetantly with my phone for a couple of minutes, calling a couple of people who are asleep miles away, taking a photo of my left leg and a video of my crotch, I have to hand it over to someone else. That's normally when the missing person walks up and says "I was next door, been calling you for the last 10 minutes"
Probably then back to the flat, assuming gravity allows us, where we will talk utter bollocks for a while before making our merry ways homeward into the Sunday dawn. Couple of hours kip and out into the sunshine again (who am I kidding here?) and who knows, a lunchtime pint or three...?
Well, that's the general plan, that's how it usually goes, things don't always happen as hoped though... updates to follow... if my brain still functions...
Cheers!
POST-MATCH REPORT :
Hmmm. After a confusing episode of Dr Who, during which the dog tried to die, the indoor badminton began
Once that and guitar hero was completed (yawn) we shuffled into town, saw some fighting, danced like sweaty fools and the night nosedived into the usual incomprehensible stupidity
Crashing finally occurred around 5am. Apparently we had a good time, but don't ask me, I wasn't there, I know nothing, there was no traffic cone, nobody shouted "CHUTNEY" at a horse and the gerbils will be absolutely fine. Once they find their way out of the trumpet.
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Thenceforth into town (luckily the flat is actually in the centre of town so this involves, er, going downstairs) where more friends will be met and much more alcohol consumed, no doubt in several establishments... later still, avoiding the numerous grunting semi-evolved hominids intent on violence, we'll make our way to some form of dancing venue, consume still more alcohol and 'dance' for a bit.... I will attempt, probably half-heartedly, to avoid the brain-shredders known as Jagerbombs (ohhh, but they taste so good... and have the effect of class A drugs... not that that has anything to do with it of course. Heh)
One thing which always happens to me around this point in the evening is that I lose the ability to control any kind of basic device, ie mobile phones... there is almost always a point where someone goes awol and the cry goes out "Capt! Call Dave, find out where he is!" and after fumbling incompetantly with my phone for a couple of minutes, calling a couple of people who are asleep miles away, taking a photo of my left leg and a video of my crotch, I have to hand it over to someone else. That's normally when the missing person walks up and says "I was next door, been calling you for the last 10 minutes"
Probably then back to the flat, assuming gravity allows us, where we will talk utter bollocks for a while before making our merry ways homeward into the Sunday dawn. Couple of hours kip and out into the sunshine again (who am I kidding here?) and who knows, a lunchtime pint or three...?
Well, that's the general plan, that's how it usually goes, things don't always happen as hoped though... updates to follow... if my brain still functions...
Cheers!
POST-MATCH REPORT :
Hmmm. After a confusing episode of Dr Who, during which the dog tried to die, the indoor badminton began
Once that and guitar hero was completed (yawn) we shuffled into town, saw some fighting, danced like sweaty fools and the night nosedived into the usual incomprehensible stupidity
Crashing finally occurred around 5am. Apparently we had a good time, but don't ask me, I wasn't there, I know nothing, there was no traffic cone, nobody shouted "CHUTNEY" at a horse and the gerbils will be absolutely fine. Once they find their way out of the trumpet.
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Badge of Evil
In the early 80s badges were big. Big badges. We all wore badges. They acted as proof of identity, confirmation of which particular tribe one belonged to. Mine were worn with pride on jacket lapels, jumpers, coats, even hats. And they were all terrible. I recently found an old bag of badges, and here are a few :
Firstly, the silly badges - specifically worn so that young ladies would approach, peer closely at them (thus getting within sniffing distance) and exclaim "Ha ha ha, brilliant, what an amazing sense of humour you must have, will you sleep with me?" This, of course, never happened.
Then there were the band badges - obviously designed to attract like-minded fans, and young ladies who would check out the badges and exclaim "Wow, you're into -insert band name here- , what a discerning taste in music you must have - fancy a shag?" This never happened either, quite possibly my choice of bands had a fair amount to do with that...
And finally the desperately obscure badges, usually connected to music but consisting of strange symbols culled from album covers or band logos which only the most fervent fans would recognise, thus absolutely guaranteeing that you'd get laid at some point due to the obvious deep thought applied to your badge-wearing... nope, never happened...
I never wore political badges. I didn't know what most of them even meant. It was a simple world I inhabited, and pretty damn sexless. Couldn't understand why at the time, but it's all so clear now...
Ahh, hindsight...
DAMN YOU BADGES!
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Firstly, the silly badges - specifically worn so that young ladies would approach, peer closely at them (thus getting within sniffing distance) and exclaim "Ha ha ha, brilliant, what an amazing sense of humour you must have, will you sleep with me?" This, of course, never happened.
Then there were the band badges - obviously designed to attract like-minded fans, and young ladies who would check out the badges and exclaim "Wow, you're into -insert band name here- , what a discerning taste in music you must have - fancy a shag?" This never happened either, quite possibly my choice of bands had a fair amount to do with that...
And finally the desperately obscure badges, usually connected to music but consisting of strange symbols culled from album covers or band logos which only the most fervent fans would recognise, thus absolutely guaranteeing that you'd get laid at some point due to the obvious deep thought applied to your badge-wearing... nope, never happened...
I never wore political badges. I didn't know what most of them even meant. It was a simple world I inhabited, and pretty damn sexless. Couldn't understand why at the time, but it's all so clear now...
Ahh, hindsight...
DAMN YOU BADGES!
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Thursday, 29 September 2011
Wonderful in Young Life
This autumn heralds something of an anniversary for myself and an old and trusted friend. A 30th anniversary to be exact. A relationship began in autumn 1981 which endures to this day, despite many many changes both good and bad through the years. It's complex yet also very very simple... two like minds which gelled and continue to spark off each other in an oddly combustible way. I'll say no more, but these pictures tell a private little story of the year it all began :
A celebration is occurring, and has been for several months... it's non-specific and so far has involved much merriment and mischief.... with more to come... I fully hope that this particular layer of my life continues to deepen and swell with the richness of a firm friendship for many years to come...
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A celebration is occurring, and has been for several months... it's non-specific and so far has involved much merriment and mischief.... with more to come... I fully hope that this particular layer of my life continues to deepen and swell with the richness of a firm friendship for many years to come...
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Thursday, 22 September 2011
Don't Look Down
There are people out there - and I know this because I used to be one of them - who don't believe depression actually exists as a clinical condition. The old 'Oh just pull yourself together' brigade... you know who you are...
Well I can tell you for a fact that it bloody DOES exists, and at its worst it is utterly crippling. Having a broken brain is horrendous because it affects every single aspect of your life. I was knocked down by the depression bus several years ago and the bloody thing just kept on reversing over me, again and again. I didn't go out for years. I lived in my own headspace, a dark, cold little place without joy or optimism. It's reasonably easy to pretend to everyone that you're OK, you don't want their opinions or sympathy, so you carry on day-to-day but keep hidden in your burrow as much as possible and feel that your life is crap and that you are worthless and hated.
Anyway, I pulled through it all. Yes, it can be defeated. And for the last 3 years or so I have been myself again, not that strange, angry, nasty little shit I became for several 'lost' years. Suddenly I am loving life again, now with the foreknowledge that a simple chemical imbalance can screw a life up and chuck it in the bin, I take nothing for granted. I've managed to somehow develop a large social circle, with so many different dynamics and levels that it's becoming a full time job just to keep track of all my friends and decide where to go, with who, why and for how long. This is a world which was closed off to me for so long I stopped believing it even existed.
So, to all my current social buddies in the myriad pubs, bars and venues, flats, houses and towns we inhabit I'd like to say 'Fuck knows why you hang out with me, but thanks anyway. Mine's a pint."
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Well I can tell you for a fact that it bloody DOES exists, and at its worst it is utterly crippling. Having a broken brain is horrendous because it affects every single aspect of your life. I was knocked down by the depression bus several years ago and the bloody thing just kept on reversing over me, again and again. I didn't go out for years. I lived in my own headspace, a dark, cold little place without joy or optimism. It's reasonably easy to pretend to everyone that you're OK, you don't want their opinions or sympathy, so you carry on day-to-day but keep hidden in your burrow as much as possible and feel that your life is crap and that you are worthless and hated.
Anyway, I pulled through it all. Yes, it can be defeated. And for the last 3 years or so I have been myself again, not that strange, angry, nasty little shit I became for several 'lost' years. Suddenly I am loving life again, now with the foreknowledge that a simple chemical imbalance can screw a life up and chuck it in the bin, I take nothing for granted. I've managed to somehow develop a large social circle, with so many different dynamics and levels that it's becoming a full time job just to keep track of all my friends and decide where to go, with who, why and for how long. This is a world which was closed off to me for so long I stopped believing it even existed.
So, to all my current social buddies in the myriad pubs, bars and venues, flats, houses and towns we inhabit I'd like to say 'Fuck knows why you hang out with me, but thanks anyway. Mine's a pint."
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Monday, 5 September 2011
Inane Thought for the Day #2
If we could somehow connect Lowri Turner's jaws to a series of wind turbines the entire country's energy problems would be solved at a stroke...
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