My life in a nutshell
That whole love/hate thing confuses the fuck out of me.
Yes, but if they screw it up they rarely get a second chance
Trying to work out if there was any way forward (there wasn’t)
God, cos it would need a miracle for me to be able to walk down the road
Yes, more so as the years have passed
The thruming of the fan on my cooling pad
Hell no, I grew out of that shit years ago
I live in bed 24/7
So called friends, the now ex and occasionally family
I don’t text much at all
No.. it depends on my mood and the message
*See 1, what are you confused about right now
Yes, the nieces
A mixture of fuck you bitch and “I cant believe I did that”
Just my dog
Yep and karma can be a complete bitch
Yep, I was blissfully unaware of certain realities
No, not now, move forward, no regrets
Inside yes, but not outwardly
I’m not wearing one, I don’t wear clothes
Not since school
Fuck knows, and who cares anyway
Fuck knows, its months away
Different day, same old shit
Most of my close friends are female
Yes, bad ashtray breath and I smoke myself lol
Not once both are past 18
That rarely works
How long you got?, not not really
How long I can resist re activating my facebook
Yes 2, one died the other walked away
you could say that
Cos shes so far away
A piece of cod
Vacations don’t exist for me
Yes odds and ends from Brazil & Mexico
The town I’m in right now
10 years ago
At a theatre? Twister.. that long ago
I dont have one
Fuck yeah, its my home I speak as I like
I love my little corner of happiness
Guitars, nudes,camera gear, old B&W movies
I don’t have one, but hate pink
The ex, but in a “fuck this its over” way
Different day, same old shit
Only one left now, the other two died
Teacher/ semi pro slut
I wouldn’t give a shit
All kinds of crazy shit
No, I believe in God
I wont be getting married again
Bring it on, I love autumn
No, not big ones sadly
None, I told you I don’t wear clothes, just a duvet
and its called… Thornton’s diabetic chocolates.
Some will remember my post on agent Picolax’s legendary bowl emptying powers, well I had a visit from its friend today.
My darling niece decided to buy uncle a couple of small bags of Thornton’s diabetic chocolates for his birthday, I thought at the time how sweet it was for her to think and make the effort to get something I could eat.
Well after a bit of a celebration yesterday and a room full of family messing around and having a laugh (don’t ask about the grape!) I was finally left on my own late last night feeling worn out and distinctly peckish.
I picked up the bag of chocolates and read the label, hmm fine for diabetics, no added sugar, but nothing about Krakatoa’s cousin’s residing within, just a little note that for those not used to it, the sweetener used can have a mild laxative effect…..
MILD!!??? who the hell tests this stuff, they must have a ring piece the size of the Dartford tunnel!! …
I off course quaffed the whole packet as it was only tiny, and followed it with another, nice, a slight after-taste, but nice all the same.
I stayed up till dawn then slipped off into a nice gentle slumber until 2pm this afternoon, when I woke on feeling the bed moving and hearing a terrible noise, I thought it was an earthquake, but…. it wasn’t… it was my ‘arris.. blowing about a 12.5 on the sphincter scale!!
I chuckled to myself (as you do on giving birth to something on that volume scale) but just as I finished chuckling I felt that familiar gripping sensation and recoiled slightly as another rent the air.
This was to become a familiar pattern over the next 8 hours as around every minute the behemoth my ‘arris had become erupted in full voice.
20 mins in, the dog legged it, 40 mins in I had to open all the windows, 1 hr in and I cant remember whether I threw the duvet off myself or blew the damn thing off!!
By 6pm I knew I couldn’t risk eating anything and the carer was alternately laughing herself silly and running to get out of the blast radius!.
My brother turned up and very quickly left saying he would come back “when you’ve tamed that bugger”.
Sadly just after the carer left the inevitable happened and with me hanging onto the bedsheets for dear life another explosion that felt like it was going to send my prostate to Holland the quick way, ripped through the air to my cry of “oh crap” and then I did.. all over the damn bed..thus was to begin Phase two..
Phase one had obviously been to try and blow anything and everything either within me or a 10ft radius of my dangerous end, to hell and probably back again.
Phase two was wring the bugger dry and destroy the commode..
I have never been on and off the damn thing so much in my life, if I had gaffa tape I would have cut out the middle man and just stuck the ruddy thing to my arris and had done with it..
by 7pm I was out of bog roll, by 8pm the towels where used up and I was on the phone to mummy…” for gods sake help me… and bring a cork.. a ruddy big one..” another griping pain hit me and as I threw myself at the remains of the commode… I exploded mid air.. the dog snarled and growled at me and as I landed with more of a horrible squelch than I thud, I just gave up and collapsed forward onto the bed.
20 mins later that’s where I was found, to weak and battered to get up again.
Luckily things have calmed somewhat over the last couple of hours, I had drunk plenty of water during its assault and after eating a small meal silence has once again returned.
I still feel like I’ve done 20 rounds with mike tyson plus Mandy’s “bunker buster” butt plug,and I’m sure I no longer have a prostate problem, in fact I’m not sure I still have a prostate!!
I’m now trying to build up the strength in my arms and hands so I can strangle the niece tomorrow!!
A challenging experience with the postman..
Now don’t get me wrong my posties are brilliant but this one, well lets just say I have no clue how he got or keeps the job.
Please note his replies where in a slow drawl, so slow that were he a car it would take 3 miles for him to stop after seeing a red light!
Buzzer rings, I pick up handset and tell him to come in when I buzz, 5 mins later he still hasn’t come in. I have to resort to shouting to tell him I cant come to the door he will have to come in. maybe he thought the voice from the box in the wall was one of the ones in his head?
He has a signed for package so asks me to print my name, I tell him I cant so he offers to fill it in for me and then…. wait for it… he asks me what my name is.. I tell him there’s a huge clue on the address label that’s on the parcel.
He then tells me I should “keep up your hopes… think of Christopher reeve”, I reply I don’t think he’s cause for much hope.. “whys that” comes the reply.. me - well he’s fucking dead for starters mate!!
He then goes to leave, WITH the parcel he came in to deliver, I had to actually tell him he was supposed to leave it.
Then to cap it all he walks across my front garden to the patio door and rings the buzzer there..
“is this number X?” me-no its number XX, “oh I think I just saw you,” me - you only think you just saw me?, “oh yeah I did, thanks”.
I was really struggling to not laugh, and slightly worried they are letting him drive!
I’ve regressed, gone back to childhood in a way.
I guess its inevitable when you rely on others for everything, I now have several “mothers” who take care of my physical needs, they feed me, wash me, change my bedding, make sure I have what I need and empty my “potty” for me.
Yet the one thing I need from childhood eludes me, that feeling of safety, warmth and peace that could be found in three words, “there, there, there”, they and the outstretched arms that accompanied them had the power to vanquish the fear and make anything better in an instant.
I delight in things as I did when I was a child, the withdrawal of access to everything outside of arms and remote control reach for so long has once more allowed them to become things of wonder and in my case wistful memory.
I miss and long for silly little things that would make most laugh, sun on my skin, damp grass underfoot, a summers breeze through what remains of my once glorious hair, the smell of the river, the sound of it rushing over the weir and gurgling in the pool beyond.
I swear someone is going to be made to dig up a turf, bring it in and place it under my feet this summer.
My day is not ruled or broken by routine but follows my bodies needs, when hungry I eat, when tired I sleep, the actual time of these events doesn’t matter, often I don’t know what day it is until I check on the computer, even the natural delineation of day and night eludes me at times.
Time itself has become insignificant, it passes and washes around me as I lay motionless, I feel like the time machine of H.G Wells fame, sitting still whilst everything goes on around me at breakneck speed. It’s almost like I exist outside of it.Yet at the same time its taken a toll on my body beyond my linear years, it feels like its aging so very fast, I can feel it happening day by day.
The cogs are still turning, albeit more slowly, rust and wear has crept into the machine, the wiring’s shot. So I grind along more slowly these days taking joy and enjoyment where I can find them, they are my primary focus these days.
Its 7 am, I seem to be off on another world time zone trip, its the only way I can travel you see ;-)