Send a question in the wind. It’s hard to know where to begin.

That moment when he wakes up
Turns to his side
To realise
There's nothing more about her
That he cares to learn

Then it's over.

If you're looking for love, don't follow me.

Songs I've downloaded while I was most likely stoned....

The first in what may well become a regular outburst of my wonder, frustration and bemusement.
Often I'll set the MP3 player on my pc to run on random. It's nice to hear a choone you might not have obviously chosen to listen to. The ones that just kind of get lost amongst the crowd.
Sometimes though....sometimes a song will come and I'll think "what the fuck?!". More often than not, it's easily identifiable as a song I downloaded whilst under an influence, so to speak. It's true, there's certainly evidence of an occasional "Eureka" moment, but unfortunately, that's heavily outweighed by the type of songs that would normally make you cringe.

Some of these prove themselves to be a stubborn little sods when it comes to me deciding on deleting them or keeping them. The type of songs that initially make you roll your eyes, but then all of a sudden, you hear something in it that makes you go "Nah, it's pretty good actually."
And so, the dilema begins; Wet Kipper or Forgotten Gem?

Part one:

Krush - "House Arrest"
It's been a long time since I've heard this track. Released at a time when any bedroom DJ would have been able to make a dent in the charts. It's House. Or Pop/House. I dunno. It's also a song that holds fond memories for me. I used to spin this back in DJ days. Only while it was an 'underground' track of course. When it charted, it lost all credibility on the dance floor.
It's a bit shit by today's standards. Sounding dated. I like her voice though, even if she does sing a load of old bollocks.
What it essentially is, is a silly robotic voice, old skool samples, tinny drum sounds, broken beated, funky 'pop-house' pounder, being driven by a nice keyboard hook. An occasional female singer comes in and out with a load of nonesense, "If you're looking for love, don't follow me. We've got this house under arrest". Some scratching kicks in near the end. Kool!

"Bug on out" indeed!

In the decision between Wet Kipper or Forgotten Gem, I'm gonna keep this one. It's proper cheesy house, but there's just still something about it.
So, that's one for the Gems and bugger all for the Kippers.

The days were shaping up, frosty and bright. Perfect weather to fly.

Easter is done and dusted. Christmas before you know it.

I daren't check my bank balance, as work has been a little thin on the ground, of late. Although, deep down, I know that I'm only avoiding the inevitable.
I'm almost finished with the the things I wanted to fix-up before putting the house up for sale. Just a few fence panels to sort out and the garden. Then I can shave this fucking beard off!

My fridge is commonly empty, my walls very plain. Having not had a repeat of the collapsing episode, things could be a lot better, but they certainly ain't shit.

I'm also officially renaming The Girl's cat "Stoner" and her dog "Chewy". The dog's been doing his finest facial impression of Chewbacca since his return from the groomer's and as soon as I spark up a spliff, the cat starts purring around my legs and becomes my best friend. She loves like a shower curtain loves your leg.

The Girl has taken up knitting. I keep repeating to myself that it's all for her art course, and not because she's truly entered 'the comfort zone'. I have visions of over-sized sweaters in big chunky wool being given to me as Christmas presents. It'll be face masks in bed soon, followed by granny pants. I'm not ready for granny pants!

I've got a lot of emotion built up inside of me. I can feel it there, just simmering away, biding it's time. I had some over-spill last night when I found myself crying a little at Skins. I think I need to watch a really good moving movie and let some more of it out.

....as if the spell checker doesn't recognize Chewbacca!?

You pulled apart my theory, with a weary and disinterested sigh.

The beard has now officially replaced the monkey.

A friend of mine grows his very own brambles. They twist all around him, 'til he can't move.

Time out with the new Elbow album.

If I was in a band, I think I'd wanna be in Elbow.

She don't know who she is. Oh, I can take her anywhere. Oh,I can take her anywhere.

The Girl has just asked me to search for a song, using the lyrics, "Go to my oasis with the camel".
Four frustrating minutes follow before she remembers the song is actually "Midnight at the oasis".

Is there any hope for me?!

Hold your breath and count to ten, fall apart and start again.

Inside the ambulance, I began to feel less light-headed and my vision began to come more into focus. They had the blue flashing lights going and everything. No siren though. I must have been coming to my senses, because I asked them if they could turn off Bette Midlar's "Wind beneath my wings" that was playing through speakers in the back.

They ran lots of tests on me. Everything came back ok, except my blood sugar level being very low. Two slices of toast and two heavily sugared cups of tea later and it was back up to being more acceptable. They lay the blame on being overly stressed, not giving my body a break and piss poor eating habits.

The combined ages of the two Doctor's who attempted to get some blood from me was probably less than 45. I gave them an ultimatum after five unsuccessful attempts. "Make this one work, or I don't want you to try again." My fear of needles rearing it's ugly head once again. I felt like Steve Austin when I saw all the wires and clips attached to me.

Last night, I collapsed and fell unconscious for a minute at my friends house.

And the canvas in my mind, sings the songs I left behind. Like pretty flowers and a sunset .

Gwen is yodelling in the background. The dog keeps walking up to me, giving me a confused stare, then returning to his bed. Presumably he can smell the difference in the air. There's plenty of food in the cat's bowl, so it's unlikely that I'll see her again before I leave.

Unexpected events this weekend meant I could show off my skills of make-shift chauffeur and personal shopper. I think The Girl may have been on the verge of being suitably impressed. Although her skills of being able to write an articulate shopping list in order of walking up and down the aisles were most impressive. Proof being that I even managed to buy the right tampons and everybody knows what a mine-field that can be.

It's been an odd weekend.
I even put salad in my sandwich.


Wind It Up - Gwen Stefani.
Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day.
Times Like These - Foo Fighters.
Time To Pretend - MGMT.
Blind - Hercules & Love Affair.
The Beginning Of The Twist - The Futureheads.

*tips his hat to the slightly late train zooming past*

This bed is on fire with passion and love. The neighbours complain about the noises above. But she only comes when she's on top.

So, this afternoon.
Here's the scene:
Vacated apartment, from where the previous tenants had 'done a runner'. In quite a hurry I might add, because all their personal belongings were still there. My task (done as a favour), was to help the lettings agency clear the apartment of everything except what would deemed as 'furnishings'; tables, chairs, bed etc.
Going through all the drawers and cupboards, delving into somebody's personal things is a horrible, horrible thing. I think it's the closest I'll ever come to how it must feel for some thieving bastard who breaks into your house while you're not there and rummages around through all your personal gear.
There was a distinct lack of information given to me prior to helping them out with this. Information that would have been....let's say....useful.

The previous tenant, who had used fake I.D to rent the property, had been running a 'gentleman caller's establishment'. A make-shift brothel as it were. This small, yet vital piece of information might have prepared me a little more for some of the things that we would find there.

In the kitchen cupboards we found 10 boxes of soft tissues, 15 boxes of nappy sacks, lots of batteries (and I mean lots), 5 bottles of baby lotion, several tubs of Vaseline, baby powder packs, flyers for swinger nights, many packs of baby wipes, a few boxes of latex gloves, a pair of leather gloves, 2 pairs of high heel shoes and some packets of boiled sweets.

In the bathroom there was more baby lotion, more boxes of tissues, more nappy sacks, some packets of flavoured lube and a huge tub of baby powder.

The bedroom was more of the same really. Under the pillows, we found several packs of lube and gels of various descriptions. The pièce de résistance revealed itself when we lifted up the mattress to find loads of tissues of the previously used variety. Urrrrgh. The wardrobe in the bedroom had an assortment of 'playful attire' in the guise of a nurses uniform, a maid's uniform, a police uniform and some leather thing that scared the hell out of me. The shelf in there had a tickling stick, some more shoes and boots, a few belts and a pair of sunglasses. The drawers were mostly full of underwear of various types. Some really awful choices too!

The most surprising (and slightly confusing) find revealed itself to us when we checked the cupboard where the boiler is. Inside was a selection of vibrators, some love-eggs and yet more batteries. Maybe they liked the sex toys to be nice and warm?!

The living room had a three seater leather sofa, 2 two seater sofas also in leather, two single chairs and a couple of bean-bags. One of these had a suspiciously nasty looking stain on it. Double Urrrrgh! A small TV with a DVD player sat in one corner of the room. Underneath that was the entire collection of Friends, Rush Hour 2 and Ali G The Movie. I can only presume that all the seating was provided for 'gentleman callers' to sit and literally wait their turn, maybe taking in a episode or two of Friends.

I can't remember everything that we bagged up and removed, there was simply so much. I can remember that we only found one condom in the whole place. Either they didn't practice safe sex or protection was on a 'bring your own' basis.
My stomach turned over a few times while we were in there. I mean, who's wouldn't?! Luckily, we were in and out within thirty minutes and I wore two pairs of gloves to make sure I didn't touch anything. In fact, I was using a metal rod to fling most of the things in the bags. And yes, it was my metal rod from the van and not some kinky implement rescued from the boiler cupboard.
Needless to say I've now chucked it away. I'd never have been able to pick it up again after being soiled like that. Shame really, it always came in useful.

I feel sorry for the guy who's moving into the apartment over the weekend. He's clueless as to what's been going on there and I personally think it's awful that the Landlord of the place has insisted on keeping the furniture in from the previous tenants.
I wonder how long it will be before he starts to get some knocks on his door.
Poor guy.

There's a storm outside. And the gap between crack and thunder, crack and thunder, is closing in, is closing in.

With every up, a down. With every positive, a negative. With every delicate bra, a mahoosive over-shoulder-boulder-holder.
It figures.

The beard is staying. I've decided. It's staying until I've finished fixing up my place and it goes on the market for sale. This may be some time away, but with each day, I'm taking a step closer.
It's moved into it's soft period of growth. Which is nice to know, that I'm not causing The Girl any undue scratchiness.

The stress is still there, just lazing around in the background lately. I can handle it grazing away on some far away field.


This is stupidly hypnotic.