[216] In the cold light of day August 28th, 2004 – 12:51pm Posted in Events No comments

God damn this page for being on the sodding internet. God damn that fucking text message that just ruined what I thought were three paragraphs of genuine expression of the way I feel. She doesn’t fucking remember! Buggering fucking bollocks. I thought I’d finally found reason sufficient to kill my tiresome longing for her but now that whole train of thought has been derailed by the very fact that I can’t be bitter about a few trivial drunken actions. I mean, the reason I’d found was entirely trivial in the first place*, but it worked anyway on the basis that I could get angry about it because I’d presumed there was motive behind it, but now it turns out it was just some forgotten drunken crap, it’s all hollow and I can’t even trick myself into feeling slightly resentful about it. Fucking buggering bollocks on a bap.

*ten minutes pass*

Hey, do …read more.

[215] Peter Gabriel was a fucking fruitcake August 23rd, 2004 – 12:49pm Posted in Events No comments

Best to delete this drunken spunk.

[213] I forgot to write a title while writing this August 20th, 2004 – 11:47am Posted in Events No comments

[This bit written separately: I apologise for the vulgarity of the later portions of what follows, what must appear disgustingly rash and abrasive, but I genuinely, really do not mean this to be anything other than the product of myself sat idly at work for two hours trying to come to terms with what I think of myself. The arena of female combat currently dominates my thoughts so dominates this entry equally.]

Quite a lot has changed recently but I don’t feel especially different. It doesn’t work like a story where everything has scripted reason. I have moved home, started a new job and had a flurry of encounters with women, but when I lie down at the end of the day I am still the same man. This doesn’t especially bother me in any way; I’m not feeling much at all at the moment.

To bring distant viewers up to speed: …read more.

[212] Progress August 16th, 2004 – 12:45pm Posted in Events No comments

Things have moved along amicably in the few days since I recounted the gloom and doom of last weekend. My self-imposed drinking ban is successful thus far; I managed all weekend without a drink, which means this last seven days is the longest I’ve gone entirely drug-free for about two years. It sounds and is an insignificant achievement but by my standards and goals it means something. On Friday night we went down to the Cellar Bar quite late on and I managed with a single lemonade for a good hour or so; it felt very odd, and only the oncoming prospect of leaving kept me going, but it felt good when I had managed it. The weekend quickly became an obstacle course of trying to find distractions to replace the usual get-ready-at-six routine; Saturday night became a Six Feet Under marathon (which I now seriously rate, at least up …read more.

[203] So much to catch up on August 9th, 2004 – 6:32pm Posted in Events, Thoughts No comments

This is the first time I have been alone and had chance to write since the move last weekend. So much has happened since then, which makes it difficult to know where to begin. Essentially, I went on an idiotic bender last weekend, the usual drink and drugs, then we cut to Tuesday. I had spent Monday unable to eat or drink which ended up with an anti-nausea drug from the hospital. I then sit in my new livingroom, feel utterly alone and begin crying. It came out of the blue. A switch flicked and just like that, I could no longer reason any purpose to my continued existence. I called the doctor and asked for an emergency appointment (ostensibly on the basis I had been unable to eat for a day) and was given one at 2pm, then ran back to mummy. I sat and asked if I could …read more.

[204] To be edited August 3rd, 2004 – 12:36pm Posted in Events No comments

I will edit this soon.

[110] Chicks in train stations August 2nd, 2004 – 4:50pm Posted in Good Things No comments

Train stations are a breeding ground for foxy chicks. They somehow skim off the cream of students, tourists and businesswomen and whip it into one long platform of inexplicably prevalent beauty. Duffel coats, t-shirts, pencil skirts – train stations manage to concentrate the finest of the outside world into a short stretch of concrete where there’s never much more to occupy the mind during the wait than the people around you. For the voyeur, they surpass pubs or restaurants in every respect purely because they catch chicks unaware, dressed as they would normally dress without any airs or graces, which is equally as attractive as a lady dolled up to the nines. But most of all, foxy chicks in train stations look intelligent, carry that indefinable air of confidence while hinting at vulnerability, and there’s nothing much that tops that.