You spend most of your time as a kid wanting to be treated like an adult.
You spend most of your teenage years battling though puberty, all the emotional restructure and trying to find your path in life when it comes to actually stepping out into the real world.
Then you spend most of your adult life trying to figure out just what the fuck relationships are all about.
I don't believe for one minute that this life that we're all struggling through is all that we are.
The human body may indeed be an amazing piece of kit, something that we as a race will continue to strip down, pull apart and rebuild in order to try to understand it more. But in reality, isn't it just a shell? A container? A capsule?
We are a mind, a soul, an energy.
And our bodies are just keeping us company until we are ready to move on to the next stage.
By the end of our 'physical' lives we may have earned millions, spent billions, lived in numerous abodes, worked our arses off, fucked many different people and watched our flesh and bones betray our own eyes.
Those things may have made us happy, they may have made us sad. But there will come a time when none of it will matter because we can't take any of that with us. But what we can take is our emotion, our experience, our knowledge, our teachings and our loves.
Quiet....
For a while.
Tuesday, January 19
Sunday, January 17
And I wonder if you're half as innocent as you were showin' me. Or if you thank him for his time and just never call again.
My Nan was here for Sunday lunch today.
During the chatting, having the meal, she was telling us stories of her youth.
It's now a few hours later, and I'm still trying to take in stories of how she flirted with all the boys, flashed more than the odd ankle to them, used to think nothing of getting blind drunk on weekends and have to be carried off to her bed, wherever that may have been....How she got caught trying to sneak back up to her room, halfway creeping upstairs, by her Dad. How her and her friends used to tuck their long dresses up into their knickers so they could ride on the handlebars on some handsome devils. How she give an extra bit of wiggle when she walked through the factory to collect the wages once a week, and how she would love all the wolf whistles.
And even to this day, she can remember names.
Sounds to me like my Nan was many a guy's worst nightmare.
During the chatting, having the meal, she was telling us stories of her youth.
It's now a few hours later, and I'm still trying to take in stories of how she flirted with all the boys, flashed more than the odd ankle to them, used to think nothing of getting blind drunk on weekends and have to be carried off to her bed, wherever that may have been....How she got caught trying to sneak back up to her room, halfway creeping upstairs, by her Dad. How her and her friends used to tuck their long dresses up into their knickers so they could ride on the handlebars on some handsome devils. How she give an extra bit of wiggle when she walked through the factory to collect the wages once a week, and how she would love all the wolf whistles.
And even to this day, she can remember names.
Sounds to me like my Nan was many a guy's worst nightmare.
Tuesday, January 12
This storm it came up strong. It shook the trees and blew away our fear. I couldn't even hear.
I'm currently downloading "One Hundred Vocal Trance Anthems" and am more excited about listening to that on the way to and from work, than I am about anything else tomorrow.
That's kinda sad, isn't it?
When I work on a Sunday, I spend the first two hours drinking coffee and watching the Hollyoaks omnibus, then I listen to Radio One for the rest of the day.
I'm thinking about volunteering to work this Sunday, so I can see what happens next.
That's kinda sad too, huh?
And it's times like when I was downstairs the other night, watching some drama with my parents....and yes, the steamiest sex scene came on....and lasted for-e.v.e.r....tits and arse everywhere, even parts of a lady-garden....and to say they were athletic, well....I can only hope they are on Team GB for the next Olympics....grunts and groans, moans and even a vocal money shot yelp. Yes, a Barbaric yelp.
Anyway....when that happens to me, it makes me realize I may have outstayed my welcome here.
It's disjointed, isn't it?
But it makes sense, right?
That's kinda sad, isn't it?
When I work on a Sunday, I spend the first two hours drinking coffee and watching the Hollyoaks omnibus, then I listen to Radio One for the rest of the day.
I'm thinking about volunteering to work this Sunday, so I can see what happens next.
That's kinda sad too, huh?
And it's times like when I was downstairs the other night, watching some drama with my parents....and yes, the steamiest sex scene came on....and lasted for-e.v.e.r....tits and arse everywhere, even parts of a lady-garden....and to say they were athletic, well....I can only hope they are on Team GB for the next Olympics....grunts and groans, moans and even a vocal money shot yelp. Yes, a Barbaric yelp.
Anyway....when that happens to me, it makes me realize I may have outstayed my welcome here.
It's disjointed, isn't it?
But it makes sense, right?
Sunday, January 10
I'll take this soul that's inside me now. Like a brand new friend, I'll forever know.
The morning after made so much more sense than the night before
Too many refills
Outside influence, outside influence
Somebody call the cops.
The night before had too many arms and too many legs
Eagerness overpowered love
Care and attention, fear and redemption
Somebody call the cops.
The smell of newly baked bread in the air and sex on the sheets
Passion danced with the morning
Between them, deep within them
Somebody call the cops.
The wonderful expression on her face said it all and more
His expression quite different
Pulling faces, saving graces
Somebody call the cops.
The feeling of real life was much more apparent in the morning
Between the absolute two of them
The truth of her moans, the depth of his groans
Somebody call the cops.
The feeling of a jigsaw puzzle with all its pieces present
Bodies entwined as if it were meant
Wrapped around her, deep inside her
Somebody call the cops.
Come on, surprise him
Include him in the bigger picture
Do you ever want to think "what if?"
What if?
The hours that followed saw them sat on the sofa together
Her eyes catching his panoramic gaze
He stroked her garden, and begged her pardon
They were pulling out all the stops.
Too many refills
Outside influence, outside influence
Somebody call the cops.
The night before had too many arms and too many legs
Eagerness overpowered love
Care and attention, fear and redemption
Somebody call the cops.
The smell of newly baked bread in the air and sex on the sheets
Passion danced with the morning
Between them, deep within them
Somebody call the cops.
The wonderful expression on her face said it all and more
His expression quite different
Pulling faces, saving graces
Somebody call the cops.
The feeling of real life was much more apparent in the morning
Between the absolute two of them
The truth of her moans, the depth of his groans
Somebody call the cops.
The feeling of a jigsaw puzzle with all its pieces present
Bodies entwined as if it were meant
Wrapped around her, deep inside her
Somebody call the cops.
Come on, surprise him
Include him in the bigger picture
Do you ever want to think "what if?"
What if?
The hours that followed saw them sat on the sofa together
Her eyes catching his panoramic gaze
He stroked her garden, and begged her pardon
They were pulling out all the stops.
Friday, January 8
And you gathered from my pleas to you, that I am but a clown. No fear, only a hero can defeat these demons now.
I am due to finish taking my medication at the end of this month.
Does that mean I'm fixed?
Am I mentally unbalanced no longer?
Am I....ok?
I feel a terrible urge to fly the nest again. I need to be free.
The only thing that's keeping me from looking at it more seriously, is the fact that I can pay back more of my debts while I'm nesting with The Folks.
And I need to get that done and dusted.
It's not that I can't settle, it's that I'm....unsettled.
Does that mean I'm fixed?
Am I mentally unbalanced no longer?
Am I....ok?
I feel a terrible urge to fly the nest again. I need to be free.
The only thing that's keeping me from looking at it more seriously, is the fact that I can pay back more of my debts while I'm nesting with The Folks.
And I need to get that done and dusted.
It's not that I can't settle, it's that I'm....unsettled.
Thursday, January 7
I've got a sheet for my bed. And a pillow for my head. I've got a pencil full of lead. And some water for my throat.
I masturbated in a five star hotel last night.
I rock!
I rock!
Friday, January 1
Woke up and for the first time, the animals were gone. It's left this house empty now, not sure if I belong.
The aftermath is never a dull moment.
As I sat there this morning, trying to put together how I have gained scratches on both of my hands and one arm, why all of my pockets are crammed full with gambling chips, realizing we were lucky in our 'close call' with the police, trying to remember who took the photo of me trying to strike an 'erotic male calender' pose, using a rather large road sign to cover most of my modesty and wondering who the hell I spoke to in Australia on that girl's mobile phone.
It was no use asking my friend, as she handed me my first coffee of the day. She fell asleep on the sofa for the last few hours while the rest of us were in drunken wii mode. Previous to that she had been trying to keep up with everybody else, and failing. Those three glasses of wine she downed on an empty stomach kicked in by 10 and she was pretty useless after that. Although she proved herself very useful in helping me carry the huge 'No Smoking' sign that we gained on our two mile walk back to our friend's house.
This morning, she seemed more vocal about telling me she'd spent the best part of two hours already this morning "shitting through the eye of a needle". And the deep, rapturous burps didn't really add anything to the conversation.
During the day, most of the blurry pieces of the puzzle have cleared. I think a good time was had by most, if not all and everybody survived in one piece. That's always a good sign.
I'm still to find out who has the photo though.
One thing that is clear to me when I think back.
As midnight was approaching with chants of the countdown, the group of friends I was out with bobbed and weaved their way further into the building and we kinda got separated. The clock struck midnight. Whistles and bangs, cheers and "hoorays" bellowed out, as people did the hugging, kissing, shaking hands kind of thing. And for entire length of that awful..fucking..song that's sung on every New Year, I was all alone.
As I sat there this morning, trying to put together how I have gained scratches on both of my hands and one arm, why all of my pockets are crammed full with gambling chips, realizing we were lucky in our 'close call' with the police, trying to remember who took the photo of me trying to strike an 'erotic male calender' pose, using a rather large road sign to cover most of my modesty and wondering who the hell I spoke to in Australia on that girl's mobile phone.
It was no use asking my friend, as she handed me my first coffee of the day. She fell asleep on the sofa for the last few hours while the rest of us were in drunken wii mode. Previous to that she had been trying to keep up with everybody else, and failing. Those three glasses of wine she downed on an empty stomach kicked in by 10 and she was pretty useless after that. Although she proved herself very useful in helping me carry the huge 'No Smoking' sign that we gained on our two mile walk back to our friend's house.
This morning, she seemed more vocal about telling me she'd spent the best part of two hours already this morning "shitting through the eye of a needle". And the deep, rapturous burps didn't really add anything to the conversation.
During the day, most of the blurry pieces of the puzzle have cleared. I think a good time was had by most, if not all and everybody survived in one piece. That's always a good sign.
I'm still to find out who has the photo though.
One thing that is clear to me when I think back.
As midnight was approaching with chants of the countdown, the group of friends I was out with bobbed and weaved their way further into the building and we kinda got separated. The clock struck midnight. Whistles and bangs, cheers and "hoorays" bellowed out, as people did the hugging, kissing, shaking hands kind of thing. And for entire length of that awful..fucking..song that's sung on every New Year, I was all alone.
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