I tried so hard and got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. I had to fall, to lose it all. But in the end, it doesn't even matter.

Dear week commencing the 14th of January,

I know you're not officially over yet, what with the weekend looming, but so far you have proved to be a complete waste of time.

Whilst I'm a firm believer that 'tomorrow is another day', you've done nothing to confirm that line of thinking, instead choosing to make each and every day as utterly rubbish as each other. There have even been times when I've not realised what day it is and have had to double check, which is simply not good enough.

Each day you should have not only provided me with some work, but also with a phone call or two, allowing me to plan for more work in advance. To say you've failed in this department is an understatement of the largest proportion. Not only has the phone been deathly quiet, but I've not even had enough work to restock my fridge. Did you see my fridge last week!? In addition, I'm now also facing a week ahead with just one job tentatively booked in. This simply isn't good enough and I am seriously considering writing a strongly worded letter to Chronos and the screen-writers of "Gone With The Wind".

You've done nothing to arrest my dislike of daytime TV (although i did love the re-runs of Ally McBeal if I'm totally honest), but I'm sick, sick, sick of seeing adverts about Debt Consolidation, Car Insurance, that fucking Churchill dog, those goons from Halifax singing and dancing and I'm even tired of the trailers for the new series of Skins. And just who the fuck does Jeremy Kyle think he is? I know what I think he is!

I've been getting up early, only to be presented with another flat day. Even though I've tried to be as pro-active as I can about filling my days with work, by early afternoon, my motivation and drive have flown the coop and I'm left feeling like I might as well write the rest of the day off. I've been going to bed at a reasonable time, only to find myself lying there worrying about things and dreading that the following day isn't just a repeat of today. Needless to say it has been.

Every night, you've presented me with bad dreams. Two of which involved such horrible things that I've been jerked out of my bodily rest and thrust into the dark and dingy reality that is my bedroom. You've ignored my pleas to have naughty dreams about The Girl and instead have given me mixed visions that have horrified me to the point of waking up in a startled and bemused state.

Not only have you been utterly crap as far as work is concerned, but it's obviously had a knock-on effect on my finances, meaning I can't go to see The Girl this weekend. I don't think I need to explain how pissed off that makes me feel.

The only comforting thing is knowing that you wont be around next week, specifically next weekend, when I will be spending some time with The Girl and then topping the weekend off by seeing Linkin Park play.
That aside, it's been a complete waste of a week of my life and I sincerely hope our paths never cross again.

Yours annoyingly,
bedshaped

p.s.
This is the first time in a long while that I feel my depression biting at my heels again. Thank you so much for that.

There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses. It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses.

I think one of the worst things about living on your own is how common it is to feel uneasy or scared. Or maybe it's just me.
Sometimes, it's easily explained things making those unusual noises, but that doesn't stop your heart skipping beats or your breathing rhythm to quieten and slow down enough to enable you to hear a pin drop. Then your mind starts wandering and you find yourself imagining all sorts of things.

It happened earlier, while I was soaking in the bath.
It's one of my few luxuries nowadays, to run a hot bath and have a nice long soak, complimented with a book or magazine and music playing in the background. I could hear voices outside, but was unsure if they were out the back of the house or out the front. Out the back would be impossible, I thought, because unless someone is willing to scale a six foot fence, (in the dark....in the pouring rain....through some very muddy fields) there's no way for them to get around there. So, must be out the front then. That's not so bad. It's probably just people walking down the road, past the house.
I settled back into my magazine, putting it down to nothing unusual.
Several minutes later, there's a thud. Then another one. Then another, sounding like something is being thrown against the window downstairs.
By this time, I'm like a startled cat, sensing impending doom.
Another couple of thuds, then definitely something weighty slamming against my front door. I've now reduced my breathing to that of a corpse and my mind is racing. Should I get out and investigate? Should I shout something down the stairs? Should I just make any kind of noise so whoever it is knows somebody is in? Of course, who-ever it was must have known the house wasn't empty because they would have been able to hear the music playing and seen some lights on.
While my mind is trying to think of something sensible to do, the doorbell rings. I have a doorbell that doubles as an intercom, so when the button is pressed on the outside, I can hear who it is on the speaker that's at the bottom of the stairs. I could hear voices. Whispering. Then laughing. Then shouting. Then nothing; the intercom had switched off.
There was one more bang on the door. Not a 'knock'. A definite bang. The voices raised up again, then faded away, presumably as whoever it was moved off.
I lay there in the bath, unable to enjoy my magazine, the music or my rare luxurious moment anymore. It had been ruined. Bastards!
I stayed in there for another five or ten minutes before deciding I felt confident enough to get out, get dressed and come downstairs to investigate. Before I went downstairs, I checked outside from the safety of an upstairs bedroom, without the light on of course.
Downstairs, I sheepishly opened the front door and checked to see if I could see anything unusual. I was half-expecting to find my car or van had been damaged or perhaps a horses-head had been left by the steps.
Nothing. It all looked ok.
False alarm then.

I've probably watched far too many horror movies!

I hate confrontation.
When I've been out with friends and trouble has kicked off, I'm the first to back the hell out of there. I've been caught up in a nasty fight outside a club once before and I learnt a valuable lesson from that night. Never be anywhere near a fight again.

When I think about it, I've been in a few potentially serious situations, so it's no wonder that I'm nervous when I think I can smell danger. Ok, so the bath story wasn't exactly danger per se, but I think my experiences have perhaps instilled a safety mechanism inside my head that makes me more susceptible to wanting to run or hide than be in any kind of scary situation. Either that or I'm just a big pussy!

The nightclub fight involved glasses and bottles being broken and used to lash out at people. I have no idea how it started, but once it kicked off, anybody who was even close to the rumble (which after a short time involved at least 10 people) got dragged into it. The screaming and shouting was deafening. The door security weren't getting involved, presumably because it was outside the club, although they did keep shouting that the police were on their way. Luckily, this was enough to make most people see sense and eventually, people who'd been thrown to the ground were able to get up and walk away.

I stupidly chased a guy who I'd watched steal something from the shop I was working in. I'd obviously been influenced by too much Starsky and Hutch, although none of that came as any help when he suddenly stopped running, turned on his heels and pulled out a sharpened screwdriver on me.

In my more active clubbing days, I had a knife pulled on me because I was apparently talking to a girl who this particular guy liked and wanted to teach me a lesson. A few weeks later, he came up to me in a different club and said he never intended to use it on me. He just wanted to scare me off. I told him he'd done a good job.

One of the worst ones I can remember is having a neighbour from hell. A couple of weeks after moving in, the guy next door decided he didn't like me. Stupidly loud music was just the beginning. It was bloody Country and Western as well! Loud banging on the walls followed, along with lots of shouting, swearing and threatening directed at me. The walls were so thin I could hear every "pfffffssssttt" when he opened another can of beer. This went on for a couple of weeks, coming to a horrible conclusion when one night he decided shouting through the walls wasn't good enough and proceeded to try and kick down the front door, telling me that when he got inside, I was gonna "get it". Fortunately, he wasn't able to kick the door down and went back round to his own house, ranting and raving about something. Unfortunately, he returned a few minutes later with a samurai sword and began hacking at my front door. Obviously, I'd phoned the police by this time. In fact, I'd phoned them way before he got to the 'hacking' stage. They were certainly taking their time though and jumping out of the window briefly entered my head.

There was also a 'road rage' incident a few years back. I wasn't aware that I'd done anything wrong, but a guy in the car behind me obviously thought otherwise and took his opportunity to tell me when we pulled up at some traffic lights on red. He pulled up alongside me, wound his window down and began to shout and scream at me as if I'd just been caught sleeping with his partner or something. I tried my best to ignore him and 'willed' the lights to turn green, but my prayers weren't answered and next thing I knew, he was out of his car and thumping on my window asking me to "step outside".

Without having to think too hard, it appears I've been in a few 'situations' but luckily none of them resulted in anything more damaging than turning me into a scaredy-cat.

Procrastination running circles in my head. While you sit there contemplating, you’ll wind up left for dead.

Blogging....It's a funny old game, eh?

Obviously, it's all about personal preferences when it comes to which blogs one reads.
For me, I like a recipe of honesty, wit, comedy and tragedy. Add a dash of reflection, optimism, observation and real life, all folded nicely into a mixing bowl that's dished out on a reasonably regular basis. I like opinionated people who can be passionate about their thoughts and feelings. People who aren't afraid to bare their souls on personal matters. People who can be controversial, without sounding like an arrogant twat. People who actually enjoy interaction with others and who don't judge other bloggers by their sparse comments boxes. People who are aware of the unwritten blogging rules and aren't afraid to bend and break them, without being an obnoxious twonk.
I can't be arsed with reading about who fancies who in school, "why the whole world doesn't understand me", endless and pointless memes, or regurgitated bollocks that's basically been copied and pasted from somebody else's place. But like I said, that's just me, because obviously thousand of others do.

According to Technorati, who are currently tracking 112.8 million blogs, there are 175 thousand new blogs being created every day. Obviously, a lot of these never get off the ground for one reason or another. I've read that almost 80% of blogs are abandoned within the first month and just over 1 million never even get past that first posting. I guess that's mostly down to the blogging platforms making it so easy to create a blog in the first place.

Statistics aside though, there's still a mahoosive amount of people blogging out there. So why is it that I still find it so difficult to find a guy's blog engaging enough that I want to keep going back to it? I want to find more blogs written by guys that will stimulate my interest enough that I can't help but keep going back.
I know there are some really good blogs written by guys out there that are hugely popular, and rightly so. Some of them I have bookmarked but not linked from here. I find myself a little put off by them though, mainly because of their popularity and the fact that their comment boxes are choc-a-bloc with responses from other bloggers that make me feel somehow insignificant. A little silly on my part, I know, but that's just how I feel. In fact, the contents of comment boxes on certain blogs can be intimidating for me, enough so that I shy away from returning as regularly as I'd like, or even at all. Or sometimes I will continue returning, but never comment myself or even open the comments up, which is a shame because it takes away some of the essence of it being a blog in the first place.
Maybe I'm just too picky!

I love the idea of blogging. In the past few years, it's arguably changed the way the people of this world of ours are perceived. If nothing else, it's become an extraordinary tool to bring people closer together in some way, shape or form. Of course, it's also flourished in becoming a great way for budding writers, artists et al to be discovered, when in the past they may never have even got their foot in the door.

The main point of this entry was to highlight the fact that I find it difficult to find good blogs by guys. This got drowned out somewhat by the rest of the post and in essence, that apparently makes me a crap blogger myself for not sticking to the point in question and getting side-tracked too much.
Oh well.

I’m a binary code that you cracked long ago. But to you I’m just a novel that you wish you’d never wrote.

During the recent festivities, I acquired one of these:

I have to admit, I've never really been that taken with Laptops. In fact, when I showed The Girl, she was the more excited one and at one point I thought she was gonna take it up to her bedroom and start stroking and caressing it. Luckily for me, she was preoccupied getting killed by some person (probably on the other side of the world) on World Of Warcraft.

To test out the wireless connectivity, we tried to hook it up to The Girl's connection. And tried. And tried. With a little bit of fiddling and undoubtedly a lot of luck, we finally managed it. They don't make it easy, do they?
We both had a chuckle when my Laptop was searching for 'active' connections within its range and it picked up The Girl's neighbours' connection. Amusingly, instead of just having a 'standard' name such as SKY###### or BT-INTERNET######, it was listed under their names; Jack and Jill's Internet*. Considering the neighbour has gone through several boyfriends since splitting with her husband and seems to have only just settled down with a steady partner in the last few months, I wondered at what point in their relationship she decided to rename her internet connection. Bizarre! And slightly amusing.

I may start blogging from my Laptop. Once I figure out how to type on the finicky keyboard without making spelling mistakes every other word.

*Real names changed to protect the innocent.

Just 'cos you’re raising the bet and call the shots now on me. It really doesn’t faze me how you spend your time.

I took this a few minutes ago:



No, I'm not de-frosting or cleaning my fridge out. This is simply the current sad state of affairs of its contents....or lack of. Oh, and those eggs went out of date on the 18th of December. Go me!

Still....think of the money I'm saving by not filling it up (not that it's ever full anyway). I'd like to say I'm also losing weight due to lack of food to eat, but I was bought a tin of Celebrations for Christmas and it would be rude of me not to eat them, right. Except the Snickers ones of course. Damned food of the Devil!

My mum would hit the fucking roof if she saw how pathetic my fridge looked. Perhaps a good job then that my folks never visit me, huh. I've decided to save empty packs of things and print out pictures of fruit and salads to put in the fridge, just in case they decide to pay me a visit.

This quiet serves only to hide you, provide you. What I knew, what I knew, it'd come back to you.

There are so many things I want to achieve this year, it's difficult to know just where to begin. Being devoid of a beginning doesn't make the goal any less achievable, it just means the journey may be a little more bumpy.

And why is it New Years Eve is always shit? Don't ya know what I mean man, deal wiv it.

It's been a real eye-opener just how many double entendres are involved in my line of work.
Often, I can have a conversation with a girl about her "blocked pipes", "internal flanges being ruptured" or "issues with her dumping" and neither of us will bat an eye-lid (although inside, I'm sniggering away like a schoolkid).
And I wonder, will I ever grow tired of this?!

With Christmas and New Year holidays almost upon us, it appears that cooking the festive dinners, general over indulgence with food and family/friend get-togethers present their own abundance of double entendre opportunities. So with this in mind, I thought I'd list a few in the hope that anybody who stumbles along this here blog might like to take the opportunity to "slip the occasional one in!" Yano, just for shits and giggles.

• "Smother the butter all over the breast."
• "I've never seen such an inviting spread."
• "It's a little dry, but I'm still gonna enjoy eating it?"
• "Stuff it up between the legs as far as it will go."
• "I prefer breast to legs."
• "I'm in the mood for a little dark meat."
• "How long will it take once you put it in?"
• "That's the biggest bird I've ever had."
• "Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist."
• "I wish you wouldn't play with your meat."
• "Just wait your turn, you'll get some."
• "Wow! I didn't think I could handle all that and still want more."
• "You still have a little bit on your chin."
• "If I don't undue my trousers, I'm gonna burst!"
• "Are you ready for seconds yet?"
• "I'm so full because I've been gobbling nuts all morning."
• "Do you think you'll be able to handle having all these people all at once?"
• "I didn't expect everybody to come at the same time."
• "Just pull the end and wait for the bang!"
• "That's the most I've stuffed in my mouth all year!"
  

A safe Christmas and peaceful New Year to all.

x

Nothing unusual, nothing's changed. Just a little older, that's all.

Not that I'm complaining, but I've been really busy over the last week or so. The phone has been regularly ringing and I've been running about here, there and everywhere to work as much as I can. My bank account has been creeping back towards the black and the intimidating phone calls from various Companies appear to have ceased.
I wonder....is this the turnaround I craved or something more temporary?
My car eventually passed the MOT (costing almost £300), so all I have to do now is find a buyer for it. I don't fancy my chances shifting it before the end of the year, so it's first on the 'to-do' list after December is over with.

Most of my time off over the Christmas period will be spent with The Girl. Our second together.
Forget aftershave, socks, books, DVD's, etc etc. All I want is to spend time with The Girl who stole my heart when I wasn't looking.

Trying to get hold of some weed for the break is proving a lot more difficult than usual. Crikey, it's like the (typical) summer drought around here!

The end of the year is nigh. It's been a struggling bunch of pissy pants and sweaty camel's bollocks at times, but it appears that I may well survive after all.

Ooh my little pretty one, pretty one. When you gonna give me some time, Sharona?

How on earth do girls remember what make-up products they are supposed to be buying when Company's like Olay and L'Oreal have such ridiculous names for their stuff.

I mean, come on....

Regenerist Daily Regenerating Serum.
Total Effects 7 Signs Serum.
Pro-Vital Energising Moisture Fluid.
Complete Care Multi-Radiance Fluid.
Touch Sensory Moisturising Cream SPF 15 UV Protection.
Classic Care Active Beauty Fluid Hypo-Allergenic (Sensitive).
Derma Genesis Cellular-Nurturing Moisturiser.
Micro-Dermabrasion Kit.
Glycolic Peel.

Seems to me you need some kind of Doctorate in order to buy girly products nowadays.
All these fancy names seem to have come right to the fore-front in the last year or so. Perhaps it's a clever marketing tool, gaining better sales because it sounds like like such a complex product. 'Face Cream' obviously doesn't cut the mustard anymore in this day and age.
I wonder if other products will follow suit in years to come. Perhaps the days of asking for a pack of Tampax are numbered.

I spy with my little eye, something that begins with I don't care.

Fuck and Bollocks.
Two words that describe the day quite well I feel.
Although of course it's all open to interpretation.

Tomorrow is another day
Tomorrow is another day
There's no place like home....

To live without my music, would be impossible to do. In this world of troubles, my music pulls me through.

I'm always up for a bit of musical experimentation. Even with my (sometimes) diverse tastes and listening choices, artists inevitably pass me by. I strive to remain open to suggestions of different stuff (old and new) to load into my player and with this in mind, swisstoni's shuffleathon provides a great opportunity to listen to music that for one reason or another has either never graced my ears before or has fell into that 'old, but not not forgotten' category.

The idea is simple:

First of all there needs to be a list of participants who are willing (and able) to make a mix-cd. The names of the people taking part are then placed in a 'hat' and drawn out in typical lottery stylee, the results being that we are then informed which other person we are to send our beloved mix-cd. Simple no?
What goes on the cd that we send is down to personal preference. Some people like to make a compilation of songs that reflect a certain something about themselves. Some people like to tailor their cd towards the person they know will be receiving it. And some people probably like to include something quite 'different', especially if they already know who's gonna be on the receiving end, just to add more interest.
The final rule is that the recipient gives the cd a 'good listen' before posting a summary and review on their own blog. Repeat plays are not only heavily encouraged, but also essential, because a lot of love, time, effort, care and attention has gone into compiling said cd and to post a blasé summary and review after a couple of spins would be as welcome as a smack in the chops for the person who compiled and sent it. Not to mention being a big piss take of the entire project.

My shuffleathon sender was sarah, who apparently used to have a blog, but now resides more on Flickr here. I don't know who she is, although I've seen her dotting about on PostOfTheWeek and the occasional comments box, so I went and had a looksie at the pictures she posts on Flickr. Needless to say, apart from seeing she is a budding photographer, it's not given me much more to go on. The fact that I know little about my shuffle-buddy is neither here nor there for me anyway. It's much more important to me what's on the cd. So without anymore waffling....here's what I thought....

Before I say anything else, I would like to say that the cover she made for me was great and obviously took some thought. There was also a little note giving excuses for the delay in posting (much the same as mine - swapping tracks at the last minute etc), a little about herself, including her now defunct blog arestisasgoodasachange and flickr address sabbat1cal, and a hidden track listing (just in case I wanted to be surprised).

Oh and I should also mention that when I did finally look at the track listing that was tucked away behind the plastic cd insert, I was initially thrown because there was a track missing. The cd has 18 tracks on it but the list only shows 17. Was this the elusive 'hidden track' that graces so many cd's nowadays or simply an error. Was there a subtle message being given, was it something more 'in depth', or did sarah simply forget to list it? Who knows? Maybe I should get scooby doo on the case.

So, without any more waffling, here we go:

One : The Streets - Turn The Page.
I really like their 'Original Pirate Material' album. In fact, I think it's my favourite of theirs. I really liked 'A Grand Don't Come For Free', but lost my love for it when everybody else seemed to jump on the wagon and it got killed by radio overplay. Let's not mention 'The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living' eh!
Anyway, great way to begin. Strings (I love strings - even sampled ones). Fantastic programmed beats and some clever rhymes. When Mike Skinner gets it right, he gets it right. When this came on, I cranked the volume right up and enjoyed every minute of it. Brilliant!

"Stand by me my apprentice."

Two : ....And You Will Know Us From The Trail Of Dead - Will You Smile Again.
I've heard some of their stuff, but this track doesn't ring any bells. Guitar driven, with crashing drums and pounding bass that builds up an intro that lasts 1 minute 40, before it falls down into a gentle sound complimented by a little brass and haunting vocals. I like it. This is the sort of stuff I listen to and I'll certainly be delving into more of their back catalogue. I find his vocals touching on Liam (Oasis) and even Brian Molko (Placebo) at times, which in my books is a good thing. The changes in tempo work really well and make it stand out as a very listenable song. Yeah, I really like this and this track is a perfect example of why I joined in with the shuffleathon. I bet they're a great live band too.

"Would you smile again for me."

Three : The Beatles - Helter Skelter.
Some four piece bunch of likely lads from Liverpool. Ok, so I may get shot down in flames for saying this (it happens with my friends and family often), but I just don't get The Beatles. Yes, I recognise how influential they have been. Yes, I realise they were seen as head and shoulders above everything else at the time. Yes, I realise that there was a certain amount of genius in their (John and Paul's) song-writing, but purlease. This track reminds me of U2 from their Rattle and Hum days and I had a real hard time with that album. I'm afraid this track is tainted for me. Perhaps a different track by the 'Fab Four' would have been better received by me. For me, the best parts of this track are the 'false' endings.

"I'm coming down fast, but don't let me break you"

Four : The Smiths - You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby.
Aah, yes. Can anybody go wrong with The Smiths? Not in my eyes (or ears). This track has made me dig out all my old Smiths tracks and for that I'm truly grateful. I always liked the fact that they were a love 'em or hate 'em band. Jangly guitars, off key vocals and clever lyrics. What more could you want. I hope that they will never be swayed to reform, because that will just kill the magic for me.

"If you're wondering why. When all I wanted from life was to be famous"

Five : Japan - Life In Tokyo.
Blimey, I haven't heard this for ages. Why don't we hear more of this? It's a bloody classic. Nu-Romantic at it's best. You can keep your Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, Ultravox et al. This is pure classic. It could, and probably was all played on one or two synths, but who gives a fuck. This is the sort of song that would sit perfectly in a soundtrack for a film based in the 80's starring John Cusack. David Sylvian's voice doesn't shine too much on this track, but I've got some of his solo stuff and it's just brilliant. A lot more mellow, but brilliant none-the-less. A nice trip back in time for me.

"Somewhere there's a sound of distant living "


Six : We Are Scientists - Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt.
Thumping track from a great album. A track driven by crashing drums and noisy guitar. Nice vocals from the lead singer and a great use of the 'stop/start' technique. A good example of a song with a chorus hook that digs into your skin and wont let up for at least a few weeks.

"The day, you move, I'm probably gonna explode."

Seven : Cud - Hey, Boots.
Who? I'm not so sure about this one. A short track coming in at just under 3 minutes with fast strumming guitar, tinny drums and a repetitive vocal. Nothing is grabbing me with this track, which is surprising because it's reminding me of stuff like The Cure (which I like). I've given it loads of repeat plays and it's just not grabbing me. I do like the cow-bell though. You can never have enough cow-bell. I really tried with this one, but it did little to grab my attention. Sorry.

"Questions asked and doubts arose. He should've seen beyond his nose."

Eight : Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit.
I know the band. I even know the title of the track. Have I heard it before? Well, possibly, but it's not something that's stuck with me over the years. Is this really the band that evolved into Starship that did that awful "We built this city". I fucking hate that song. Military style drums on the snare, with pickety guitar and a nice female vocal all make this a nice song. After a couple of listens to the song, I wondered if I was right about the subject matter; drugs. Yep, I think I'm bang on there. I quite like the way the song slowly builds up. I just wish it didn't end so abruptly. Good song though.

"And you've just had some kind of mushroom. And your mind is moving low"

Nine : Pet Shop Boys feat Rufus Wainwright - Casanova In Hell.
When they were in the charts all the time, I never really gelled with the PSB. If I'm honest, I found them a little boring. The only time their songs managed to raise my eyebrows were when they got remixed and it's only then when I found them interesting. Ok, so maybe that's a little harsh. I like this track though, mainly because it a small dose of The Pet Shop Boys and a large dose of Rufus and let's face it....Rufus has got a wonderful voice. So mellow. Lots of harmonised vocals on this track, meandering along with the programmed synths. It's a live track and it makes me wonder if I already have it somewhere on my pc. Ultimately a nice song, saved by the vocal talents of Mr Wainwright.

"Her sharp suggestion. He couldn't get an erection."

Ten : Dusty Springfield - If You Go Away.
R.I.P Dusty. A wonderful voice. Another track that I wanted to turn right up to 'eleven'. Strings drive this song along and it's a beautiful journey. Dusty's vocals make me all moist and when she sings in French...Oh My gdfjfk;sieoywt[ort. Sorry, I think I've just cum!
Wonderful production and arrangement on this song, reminiscent of Spector's Wall Of Sound. Strings, harps, flutes....Yep, this is a wonderful, wonderful song. That final line is shit though. It should never have been there.

"I'll sail on your smile, I"ll ride on your touch, I"ll talk to your eyes, that I love so much."

Eleven : Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music - Oh Yeah.
For me Roxy Music are only memorable for two songs; Love is the drug and Virginia Plain. I could never understand their appeal and Bryan's voice does absolutely nothing for my ears. I also thought he was a bit of a cock too. I actually quite like the song, it's just his voice. All I can think of when this song plays is karaoke bars. Sorry, I tried my best.

"There's a band playing on the radio and it's drowning the sound of my tears."

(Hidden Track) : Ben Folds Five - Don't Change Your Plans.
I've heard a fair bit of Ben & co and really like them. I'm sure I caught them on one of the stages at a Virgin Music Festival, but to be honest....I may have been very stoned. He's got a great voice. Really lustrous. Piano driven and a jolly vocal, loose drumming and bulging basslines make for a really good song. This has 'summer song' written all over it. I particularly like the way it comes to a faltered tempo when the chorus kicks in and there's some great harmonies in it too. It's a feel good song, which is a strange thing to say considering it's a sad love song and it's been a firm favourite on the cd, which is interesting if indeed it was 'hidden' intentionally. Fantastic piano!

"All I really wanna say is you're the reason I wanna stay."

Twelvety : The House Of Love - Shine On.
Wow. Some good memories attached to this track for me. I remember when this track hit the radio and it always stood out for me as something 'different' at the time. It has a great nostalgic feel to it, a la Joy Division and still stands the test of time. Catchy chorus and a great guitar riff that sticks like glue. I don't remember them doing anything anywhere near as good, which is a shame. Yet another track that I reached for the volume control.

"I don't know why I dream this way. The sky is purple and things are right every day."

Thirteen : Divine Comedy - Our Mutual Friend.
For some reason, I decided to miss out on who-ever was playing the Pyramid Stage and the Other Stage at Glastonbury one year to watch Neil and co play in some tent to end the festival jollities. Actually, the reason may have had something to do with being stoned. Yes, yes, I know! Anyway....they were great! And you know what? I didn't even like them. But watching them close the Festival (in a tent) was a great experience and it was at that point I decided to stop disliking them.
I love the pulsating strings in this track. In fact the whole arrangement is great. Typical vocals by Neil, delivered in almost a Morrissey style. Hate the tambourine though. Yeah, the tambourine can fuck right off. And the brass doesn't do much for me either. That said, it's a quaint song that trips along quite nicely and has nothing really offensive in it. Helped along massively by the clever lyrics, delivered in a story type way and I've found myself listening to this one quite a lot too. Maybe I should dig out some of their old stuff again.

"And we sang a song that I can't sing anymore. And then we kissed and fell unconscious."

Fourteen : Massive Attack - Unfinished Sympathy.
How refreshing to see that sarah used the correct title and not 'Unfinished Symphony' as many other numb-nuts do. It's a fucking great song. Cow bells, haunting synths, great vocals.... Great video too. Apparently shot in one take. It's one of those songs that many people know, without actually knowing who it's by. It's a sample fiesta with cello, strings, scratching, female vocal samples and tinkering percussion that all come together in a song that's nothing short of genius.

"You're the book that I have opened and now I've got to know much more."

Fifteen : LCD Soundsystem - North American Scum.
I'm not too familiar with this band, although I know the name. I like the bleeps married with the programmed beats. If this is a good example of what they are like, then I'm gonna be investigating further. In fact, why am I saying that. I'm gonna anyway, so fuck you. A little repetitive but after a few listens it's certainly stuck in my head.

"So throw a party till the cops come in and bust it up."

Sixteen : Carole King - I Feel The Earth Move.
Do I sound horrible if I say that I really like her songs, but when somebody else sings them. Nice jangly piano and old skool feel with smoothe, smoothe vocals but I find the passion lacking when she sings. She was probably off her face on something. Who knows. It's a cool background kind of song. Something to have on when friends are round.

"I know that my emotions are something that I can't tame. I've just got to have you, baby."

Seventeen : Johnny Cash - Five Feet High And Rising.
Strange and quirky choice to end the cd, but it works well. Echo on the plucky guitar and typical old style harmonies give this a very listenable feel. Is it almost skiffle? I dunno? Johnny's voice pounds along and I can't help being left with a "the end already?" feeling due to the short length. It's a "more, more!" track. Nice way to end a varied collection though.

"We can't come back 'til the water goes down, five feet high and risin'."

And that's about it. All in all a complete success, even if I do say so myself.
I'd like to thank sarah for taking the time and effort to put this together. I'd also like to thank swisstoni for bringing it all together and give a name-check to yokospungeon for being the inspiration.
It's been a pleasure.

I don't feel alright, in spite of these comforting sounds you make.

Back in Middle School, I was usually in the top 3 or 4 of my class. My reports were always glowing, my parents loved going to Parent's Evening and I was generally touted around the rest of the family as 'The Brainy One".
I found middle school really easy. None of the subjects caused me any grief, although several of my teachers had an issue with my handwriting. I didn't write in joined up letters like everybody else did. My letters stood alone and it was only occasionally that with an extra whip of the pen, I would join onto the next letter. This was as a result of my schooling when we lived in South Africa, where everybody was taught to take care with each and every letter singularly.
I can remember one teacher in particular who disliked my writing so much, she would give me extra work to do. Mostly copying text from books in my own writing. She was a bit of a bitch to be honest, but obviously I was too young to understand the concept of bitches back then.
Most of the kids would refer to her with one of two nicknames; 'The Old Dinosaur', due to her ability to look 150 and not already be dead, or Mrs Germaline*, quite simply because she smelt like she bathed in the stuff.
Anyway, I feel I had the last laugh with her because she really praised one particular piece of 'extra work' that I showed her. It was my bestest joined up writing. Little did she know that I copied the text out in my normal handwriting and then went back through it and carefully joined up the letters. Ha, silly cow!

Middle School was probably my happiest schooling days. I enjoyed most of the lessons, although the structure was nowhere near as rigid as High School, as I found out to my horror. It was a time of sports lessons actually being fun, sex education being pathetically delivered by our science teacher, after school tuition learning to play drums and the strange realisation that girls were actually quite interesting. Of course it was many years later when I realised the word 'interesting' was totally inappropriate.
It was the time in my schooling life where I actually enjoyed getting up in the mornings and making that one mile trek, calling for my friends on the way. My South African accent was different enough to make me somehow quite interesting to the other kids, resulting in me being strangely popular.
I left Middle School with high praise from most of my teachers, with comments that I would excel at High School and go on to bigger and better things.
Just shows what they knew!

* For info purposes, Germaline is (or was?) an antiseptic cream that anybody over the age of 25 thought would cure anything. Didn't matter if it was a wasp sting, a graze on the knee, an ingrowing toe-nail, a poke in the eye, a hangover or a sore bum, as far as they were concerned Germaline would cure it all. I tried for a few minutes to find a decent reference to Germaline on the net, but after finding repeat pages about guys who like to use it as a lube when having anal sex, I thought I'd leave it.

You used to be alright. What happened? Did the cat get your tongue?

If it's to be believed, top 10 actress pay-cheques.

I think perhaps I'm in the wrong job.
Oh and also the wrong sex.

I wonder if it's true what they say; that when you get into a 'high earning bracket', that you have no idea how much a loaf of bread or a pint of milk costs.

Keep this scene inside your head, as the bruises turn to yellow, and the swelling goes down.

A few days have passed me by in a kind of blur. Probably as a result of only managing three or four hours of undisturbed sleep. It's the waking up, convinced that somebody has been pounding on the front door, demanding to be let in so they can take anything of value.

It's a little hazy, but last night I think I dreamt I was crushing up travel sickness tables and snorting them. On reflection, perhaps watching Donnie Darko before I drifted off for the first time wasn't a good move.

I have had no work for two days straight now. Yesterday was the first time that I've seriously thought about giving up. Today I feel a little better.

Cutting back, cutting back, cutting back.
I've made a few changes with bills, fighting the thoughts of "is it worth it for only £20" with "every little will help". Yes, it's got to be worth it. I'm not sure how I can cut back anymore with my food shopping though, considering if I do have anything in the fridge or cupboards, it's already blatantly obvious that I go for value brands.

A consideration I was toying with was to leave this blog dormant for a while. Well, dormant or close it down completely. It's common-place to see other bloggers go silent for a while, or even close down their blogs completely while they are going through tough times. Whilst I'm still struggling to post anything here that's of any relevance or even slightly interesting for anybody else to read, I've come to the conclusion that I've been thinking about it all wrong. I never started this with the intention of 'writing for an audience', although when you find yourself with 'regular readers', sometimes the purpose of invention becomes warped. So fuck it.

There are many, many important things in life that often get left by the side. Things that are so important, that it becomes ridiculous that they are not at the foremost of our thoughts more often. In fact the words "more often" doesn't even do them justice.
I'm grateful for the good things in my life and my goal is to make sure that when things aren't going my way....I pause....take a short step back....and be thankful for all the good things.

It only makes me stronger, when you say I won't succeed. I'll work that bit harder, when you say you see no strength in me.

She is everything worth fighting for.
I fear the unwritten, but a future with her hand to hold calms the pages.
No amount of truly grotesque monster would put the frighteners in me.
My sword would be drawn,
my shield held high,
my heart beating brave.


I get wrapped up in myself all too often and it's easily done I guess. But through it all, I try my best to remember how difficult it is for The Girl and lend my support as much as I can. Ninety miles is nothing in the whole scale of things, but sometimes it feels like the other side of the world and that's when it really hits me that sometimes words are just words. When all I want to do is wrap my arms around her, but the gaping distance doesn't allow that. So we're left with words between us that so often don't feel anywhere near enough.

"So I stretch myself across, like a bridge. And I pull you to the edge"

She often doesn't realise just how much she copes with. Too quick to beat herself down over things, when in reality, she manages to juggle an amazing amount in her life and should feel immensely proud.
And that's exactly what I am....Immensely proud of her.
Ok, so I can't be with her all the time to give her the hug that she needs. But I hope she understands that one day....I will be. Through all the confusion and mess and distraction and anarchy and turmoil and work-load and turbulence....I hope she knows.
Even with the chaos and disorder of my own life, I have never lost sight of that amazing girl who deserves a hug.
Every
Single
Day.

When nothing rings home enough to dig your heels in. You dont have to leave me to see what I mean.

I became engaged in a conversation with my ex-wife earlier, mainly about debt. Strange then, that I felt she'd been more honest with me about her own personal finances than she'd ever been with me before about anything. I wonder if she thought that admitting to me how difficult things were for her would make me feel better about my own situation.
I already know that living without at least dipping your toes into debt is a rare thing nowadays. I also know that many, many other people are in worse financial situations than myself. And who can forget the Christmas Cash-Fest that's getting ever closer.

I'm trying to be more pro-active about the possibility of financial implosion. Instead of sitting around wondering why I don't win the lottery (probably because I've never played it in my life), why a stranger doesn't knock on my door to hand over a handsome cheque or why my Bank Manager doesn't ring me up to announce he's writing off all my overdrafts and loans, I'm trying to do things to help myself.

If I advertise in another paper, that should bring in more work. The advert would be another expense, but it's definitely worth a trial run otherwise I'll never know and life's too short for too many "What ifs".
I have a car sat outside that's very rarely used. I could save on the cost of insurance, running, MOT and road tax by getting rid of it. Not only would I save a little bit by not having it, but the money from the sale would definitely come in useful over the next few weeks. Again, it's not without an initial outlay from me though, as the MOT is due and I have to get one of the tyres repaired.
This house is causing me the biggest headache. As things are, I simply can't afford to stay here as I am, unless my workload almost doubles. So instead of waiting for that to happen, I've decided to either get a lodger in or find somewhere else for me to stay and rent the whole place out. There's pro's and con's for both options.
To have somebody else living with me as a lodger....well, they'd have to meet certain criteria in order for me to not feel uncomfortable in my own place. That's not because I'm particularly picky, as I'm sure anybody else would feel the same. It's just how it is. Of course, there are brilliant people out there who would probably fit right in with my kind of living, although finding one has proven very difficult so far. But that's not to say it still couldn't happen.
Getting out of here and finding somewhere else to stay (on a temporary basis) would mean I could rent the whole place out. The Lettings Agency that I do work for have already said that they'll manage the property for me. Hopefully, the rent coming in would cover the mortgage payments and I'd also be free of the other bills that come hand in hand with owning your own place.
Whichever route I take, one thing's pretty much certain. Next year sometime, I want to be living closer to The Girl. So whether I take the renting out route and continue with it, or take the lodger route and sell up/rent out next year, it doesn't really change the fact that my heart isn't in this house anymore.

You're going to roll right over this one. Just roll me over, let me go.

I felt like a beggar, asking The Blagger if he would mind a houseguest for a while. I explained that he would be helping me out massively and we could come to some sort of arrangement over the money he still owes me.
If I can stay with a friend, while I rent this place out and somebody else pays the mortgage for me, then maybe I can get through the next few months. Saving the mortgage payments, along with the other bills that are tied with having a house will be a huge help for me.
My folks think that finder a lodger is still the answer, but so far I've not had any luck. Perhaps, because I've been just able to scrape by, I've not put in as much effort finding one as I should.
I'm still torn over what to do.
Sometimes it's just too much to think about.

While I was at the folks house yesterday, we joked about the lack of food in my fridge. I wondered if they knew the harsh reality of what we'd been laughing about.

Eleven and a half months since I quit the rat race. I haven't gone under yet, so I must be doing something right.

One foot goes down in front of the other....

You can keep me pinned. It's easier to tease. But you can't paint an elephant. Quite as good as she.

Big decisions are always easier to make when there's more than just yourself to make them.
Of course the main benefit of it just being yourself, is that if the decision turns out to be a poor one, the only person you can blame is yourself.

Here, as I watch the time go by. How I'd like to sail away. Leaving all my past behind. But I know I'd only last for a couple of days.

It's not very often that I get an email off my brother, Pandy.
Tonight, I did.
His emails are usually direct and straight to the point. Often, he only emails me to ask my advice about something.
His email is titled "Memories". What could this mean? Is this a relatively light-weighted communication, with him talking about things we used to get up to as youngsters? Is it something relevant to my dad's upcoming birthday? Is he going to be asking me something that's been nagging at him?
The email contains just two lines and link to a YouTube video.

"Thought this might bring back a few good memories for ya."



"Just turn it up and enjoy the good old days."

I used to have hair like Danny. I had a pet hate for Dorothy. To this day, I still don't really know why. Mr Shorofsky was my favourite. I always wished his first name was Sherman, but it was Benjamin. I always thought Leroy and the dance teacher had a thing going and Mrs Sherwood, or Elizabeth to her friends, well I used to wish for a teacher like that.
When I watch it now, it's almost cringe worthy, with just a splash of kitch, which kinda makes it ok to watch with some enjoyment. I guess Fame was to a previous generation what High School Musical is to the kids right now.
I think it used to be on Wednesdays. Then it grew in ratings and became more akin with the other 'prime time' slots. Every hip girl in the neighbourhood sported leg warmers. I bet the person who invented leg warmers never expected that to happen. They are probably long retired and living a fabulous life, all on the back of making over sized socks with no foot part.
Genius!

I had the 'Starmaker' episode taped and for the next few months I would spend day after day watching it. As far as I'm concerned that was the best episode I'd seen up til then and they never bettered it. It was a depressing episode, all based around the fact that a well loved teacher was being given the boot, surplus to requirements/budget cuts as it were. The ending was their "Goodbye and good luck. We'll all miss you" speech, delivered as a song. Well, what else would you expect from an Academy of Performing Arts!
The thing is, I've sat here for ages now, trying to think how the episode ended. And I can't. At one point earlier, when I started writing the post, I was convinced the somebody ran in at the last minute and saved the day by announcing the budget was ok somehow and they didn't have to give anybody the chop after all. Google hasn't provided me with any answers and after trying for 15 minutes, I decided that it just wasn't that important.

She doesn't have to go to work, but she doesn't want to stay in bed. 'Cos it's changed from something comfortable, to something else instead.

Well....apparently, my bedclothes are too manly.
They scream bachelor!

Wake from your sleep. The drying of your tears. Today, we escape. We escape.

I'm not getting enough work. I'm getting some, so the local adverts are paying off, but I need to be busier than I currently am. I hope it's not going into a 'quiet' period. Is this a trade that has quiet periods?
It's obviously all down to marketing and basically getting your name and contact details out there. I'm advertising weekly in the local free paper, I'm listed on all the typical search engines for plumbers; such as Yell.com, Thompson Local etc, I've done some local leaflet drops, I've written to lots of local Lettings Agencies and I'm trying to get some good 'contacts' from local builders etc. But it's all not enough.
Yellow Pages seems to be the best option. It's expensive, but apparently works really well for certain Trades, such as Carpenters, Builders, Plasterers, Electricians and yep, Plumbers. The downside being that it's only published once a year, June/July I think, so I've missed the boat on that one. Until next year, of course. Until then, I have to carry on pushing myself the way I have been. Which is a real struggle.
It's beginning to grind on me a little now, when people say "Oh, you can't get a plumber for love nor money!".
Hello!
HELLO!
Plumber looking for work, right here!!!!

In retrospect, had I known how tough it was gonna be, I'd have planned it out a lot better. As it is now, I'm pretty much making it up as I go along.
Incredibly tough, yes. But as hard as it is, I still wouldn't change it for a 'proper job'. With the extra worry of a financially impossible Christmas looming, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that no matter how I write it down on paper, I can't see myself getting through without some more 'help' from my folks. For 'help' read money.
*Sigh*
I HATE thinking I will have to borrow money for Christmas. That sucks. That sucks big, sweaty smelling donkey balls.

I get eaten by the worms and weird fishes. Picked over by the worms and weird fishes.

It takes a certain type of person to be able to successfully live on your own. Lately, I'm feeling more and more that I'm not one of them.
Or perhaps I'm looking at this the wrong way. Perhaps everybody can and indeed should live on their own to gain a deeper understanding of the sort of person they are. Maybe when you're on your own, you're living at your most vulnerable and if anything, it gives you a good insight at the things in your life that really make the differences.

Almost twelve months ago, I quit my job and took the plunge into self employment. The only thing that nags at me is that it's been financially crippling. Other than that, I have no regrets. With huge restraints on my finances, many things have been affected. My fridge and food cupboard have been even more barren than normal. I haven't been able to go to as many gigs as I would have liked. Gifts for friends and family member's birthdays have been virtually none existent, luckily helped by everybody being so understanding. I don't get out as much because I can't afford to keep topping up the fuel and I have rarely been out with friends because I simply can't afford it. It's also affected the time I've spent with The Girl. Again, the fuel has been an issue, but also we haven't been going out or 'doing things' that we would have liked to do. The bills that come hand in hand with having one's own place have seemed to become bigger and somehow more demanding, even though in reality, I don't think they've changed at all. The metered services are the only ones I have any control over, hence I've been sparse with my use of electricity and brutally mean with my gas usage by not having my heating on. My home telephone only serves the purpose of providing my broadband connection and taking incoming calls. I've cancelled payments for things that I didn't deem important enough and have literally been living hand to mouth.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. I hate the way money can rule one's life, even when you try so hard to make it an irrelevant issue.
I used to have people round a lot of the time. This has changed considerably this last twelve months, predominantly because I'm embarrassed to have people see what state I live in. My parents have helped me out financially, particularly this last six months and if I'm completely honest, I think they'd be shocked if they saw me now. Luckily, they don't come over to mine and most of our communications happen over the phone or when I visit their place. But that's all wrong. I feel like I'm hiding from people. And it feels wrong.

As each week goes by, I feel more and more convinced that I would feel happier getting out of this house. This house I've never felt comfortable enough calling home. It's far too big for me and whilst it proved too good an opportunity to miss out on when I bought it, I'm now feeling that having such a big, empty space surrounding me is proving more detrimental to my happiness. Empty, unused bedrooms serve no purpose anymore. They would come in handy when friends and family would visit and stay over, but as I've said, that doesn't happen anymore.

I'm a firm believer that life is what you make it. A certain amount of planning and organisation may be required. I'm certainly not the type of person who wallows in their own self pity, waiting for something to change. Waiting for somebody else to make things happen. It's become very apparent to me, particularly recently, that if I just sit this out then I might as well be watching my life unfold in fast forward. And when I hit 'play' again the only thing that's changed is that another twelve months have gone by. And that's twelve months of my life that I will never get back.
If it were possible to travel forward in time and you were offered the opportunity to go forward twelve months, just think how disappointed you would feel if what you saw about yourself and your life was exactly the same as you saw before you jumped.

Living on my own these last 2 1/2 years has really opened my eyes. I like my own company. I like that fact that I have the freedom to be able to play music I love, at volumes I like, whenever I like. I like the fact that my TV is rarely on. I like the fact that I can have a lounge in the bath with the door open. I like the fact that I can eat (or not) whatever I like, whenever I like. I like the fact that I can get stoned. I like the fact that I can masturbate without worrying that somebody might walk in or over-hear. I like the fact I can keep the place relatively tidy without relying on others to do the same. I like the fact that I know where everything is.
But for every like, there is a dislike.
And for every like, there is a worry and concern that other people might not be so forgiving, or understanding, or responsive, or tolerant. And I wonder....is that very selfish of me?

Perhaps I'm just reaching the end of another chapter in my life. Perhaps the unwritten chapters demand a certain amount of change to keep my interest. Or maybe I have been given a taste of what could really make me happy and it's time I dealt with these itchy feet.

In the deepest ocean. The bottom of the sea. Your eyes, they turn me.

It's Sunday evening, which means the weekend is almost over.
I blinked, I missed it.
Last night was spent in solitary company. Each flick of the remote showed endless channels of utter drivel. When did Saturdays become a day when you couldn't find anything on TV to watch? Obviously it's catering to somebody.
My resulting Saturday evening was spent listening to some music, flickering around the WWW and getting slightly stoned. This was followed fairly swiftly with an un-fightable desire to dunk biscuits in my coffee.

My birthday comes around again on Tuesday. Has it been 12 months already?
I already know that I'm gonna get exactly what I want. I'm gonna be spending most of the day and all the night with The Girl. How could I possibly want anything more....

I'm desperately worried about Christmas. It's a horrible lurching feeling about the financial implications it's gonna put me under. Earlier today, it suddenly dawned on me and I hate the fact that worrying about money is making me forget about all the good things associated with Christmas.
I'm also not sure how much time to take off over Christmas either. I'm used to having my holiday periods dictated to me, so now I have the final say, it's proving to be more difficult than I imagined. I want to work as much over the holiday period, because people will inevitably need plumbers and it would be nice to help people out and earn myself some money at the same time. At the same time, I want to have a rest. I wanted to work for myself for many reasons. One of them was not having to answer to anybody about my working hours.

I watched Citizen Kane the other night. I'd not seen it before and as it's normally listed in some top/great movies of all time polls, I thought I'd take the plunge and see what all the fuss was about. As it happens, I can officially declare it to be an OK movie. It's well known for it's plotlines, it's character acting, it's pioneering camera techniques, it's set pieces, etc etc. I think my problem was I've seen it all before, many times. What I watched in Citizen Kane wasn't outstanding enough for me to realise that's the movie that set the bar. I'm well aware that many movie buffs will scoff at my words and declare it to be one of the most amazing movies ever made. That doesn't change my opinion though. I think I may have ruined my experience anyway, by leaving it so long to watch it. Maybe if I'd have watched it many years ago, my experience would have been so much more favourable. Who knows?
And did anybody really give a shit about "Rosebud"?!

I love the new Radiohead album. I've reviewed it here.

For the person who stumbled across my blog whilst searching Google for "stories of guys making other guys drink their piss", I apologise.

He's compromising. At least he's got a job for life. Get born, get school, get job, get car, pay tax and find a wife.

So what is it....Perfect Partner or Soul Mate?
Fate or Destiny?
Love At First Sight or third, forth, fifth time lucky?
Persistence or Chance?

What makes a person want to spend the rest of their life with another?
They say "opposites attract". They say "like two peas in a pod".
They say "you look for a duplicate of yourself". They say "you want to find a person with a different personality, a different opinion, a different attitude".

I'm sure dating agencies work differently nowadays, but I'm sure the older way of matching people was to find similarities, things in common, a good likeness of each other. That way following the "two peas in a pod" strategy.
Nowadays, I'm sure the internet dating sites would have criteria set out by the member. Certain things; physical appearance, likes, dislikes, opinions etc could be used to determine their 'match'. But then, isn't that ruling so many other possibilities out?
Speaking from my own point of view, I would never have been able to match myself up with The Girl. Her opinions, her personality, her physical appearance, her likes, her dislikes, etc....I'd never have been able to set them out as 'criteria to fit for possible match'. And I'd never want her to be anything or anyone other than herself, anyway.
I wouldn't say we were opposites, neither would I say we were similar. We're kinda blurred out somewhere in the middle. She compliments me in every way and when we're together, I feel like she brings out the best in me.

So perhaps there's no set formula at all. As we Humans are all different, maybe our preferences are too. So if that's the case, then how can anybody explain the success rates from Dating Sites and personal ads. Is that a case of 'lucky in love', 'chance' or 'destiny'?
I don't think 'Love' will ever be truly explainable, anymore so than the human brain.
In this day and age, we are no closer to explaining why we dream the things that we do, or Deja Vu, or why when your heart is broken, it really does feel like a dagger plunged right through your heart.

This was all nicely leading up to my point, until I forgot what my point was. I'm distracted tonight by Radio One's Live Lounge vol 2 and a nice smoke on the old "how's yer Father", so I apologise. Aah Jose Gonzalez "Heartbeats". Now that's just beauty wrapped up in a person.

I have nothing against Dating Sites or the people that use them, but if I were single, or indeed when I was single I would never even think about signing up with one. For the simple reason that they are seen as places where weirdos or dirty old men hang out (I'd like to point out that I don't think all guys fit into those categories, I'm just quoting general hear say). I've lost count the number of times I've stumbled across a blogpost talking about the weirdos and sex pests they get 'matched' with. So it's just a simple case of me not wanting to associate with places that would conjure up images of dirty old men and weirdos.
I saw a few months ago, Match.com was advertising with a promise of "Finding true love" or your money back. Now that's a big promise to fulfil. And where are the boundary lines when it comes to a dispute over whether it was true love or not. I imagine the Terms and Conditions on that one was a biggie.

Interesting that I began with soul mates and true love and perfect partners, and now I'm talking about Dating Sites. Perhaps that's some kind of destiny for me to post that here. Perhaps somebody who stumbles upon this post will find their perfect partner through a Dating Site and reading this post proved somewhat fateful.
My folks have been married a long time. People have done a life sentence in prison and then some to be exact. I look at them sometimes and wonder if they were lucky and found their perfect partner so young. Or are they of the generation that thinks "you have to work at a marriage" and tolerates and forgives. Over the years, they have shown less and less affection to each other. Is that something that just 'goes' or should it always be there? I know which one I'd like it to be.
You know what we don't see enough of....?
Old people holding hands.
I love it when I see old people holding hands, showing affection.

As you may have noticed, I still haven't reached my point, which I've yet to remember. It may come still, but I think I'll shut up now. I've moved onto Radiohead's new album, I'm feeling a little stoned and thinking my point will probably come back to me tomorrow, when I'm under somebody's bath.

So yeah, more old people holding hands!

Oh, and thank fuck for the spell checker!

I cheated myself, like I knew I would. I told you I was trouble. You know that I'm no good.

I was introduced to more of The Girl's family over the weekend.
In summary, the most nervous I've ever been around The Girl. Even more nervous than on our first encounter.
Within 10 minutes, I'd already decided how lovely they all were. They all felt so familiar.
I spent the rest of the weekend worrying about what they thought of me.
I think it went ok.

It's really, really important for me to be liked by The Girl's family. After what she's been through, it's not really rocket science to understand that they are all going to be looking out for her a hell of a lot more. I'm not setting out to impress anybody, I would just like to be liked, that's all.

I remember my first encounter with my ex wife's step-dad. I was introduced to him by my name, to which he yelped back, pronouncing that I was off to a bad start because my ex wife's dad's name is the same and "We all know what kind of a wanker he was, don't we?"
My first encounter with my ex's dad was when we came back from a night out to find he'd broken into her house and fallen asleep on the sofa, drunk.

Everybody has a special somebody in the family who is most important to them. Even if it's difficult to admit, if you think about introducing your partner to your friends and family, which one person are you secretly hoping to hear positive things from, because their opinion is a little bit more important than everybody elses.
For me it's my brother. Even though my parents are still alive and they've given me so much help over the last few months, it's still my brother. He can be a right twat at times, but I still value his opinion, just that little bit more than everybody elses.

A wave came crashing like a fist to the jaw. Delivered him wings, "Hey, look at me now".

Just thinking back to times gone by.

The first single I bought was Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.
I really dislike that song now. I don't like Queen or Freddie Mercury. Never did. I think I bought it because I'd saved up my pocket money, went up town and wanted to buy a single. I probably stood there looking at the charts not knowing what most of the other songs were, so plumped for the one that everybody else in The UK seemed to be buying at the time. It's been lost over time, but I'm sure the b-side was something like "Don't drive my car" and I remember being disappointed because it didn't even have a proper cover; just one of those paper sleeves.

The first album I bought was Kings Of The Wild Frontier by Adam and the Ants.
I was really into Adam and the Ants as a kid. I can remember going down to the local disco on a Friday night and begging the DJ to play "Ant Music" until I was blue in the face. It's a little worrying how much I was into them because I can remember buying Smash Hits magazine especially because it had an 'Adam Ant' skull and crossbones pendant free on the cover. The album got played over and over, mainly because it was the only one I owned for a while and I remember being particularly chuffed with the gatefold sleeve.

The first live concert I went to was Ozzy Osbourne at The NEC arena.
My best friend's dad dropped us off at the venue and picked us up after it was all over. I had to lie to my parents and tell them that my friend's dad was going to the concert as well, otherwise they would have never let me go. I was completely blown away by the loudness of the music, the stage theatrics and the fact he hung a dwarf on stage during the gig. He was probably completely off his tits at the time, but that didn't matter to a kid like me. I just loved the whole night, although I can't remember a damn song he played, apart from "Paranoid" of course.

The first car I owned was a Morris Marina 1300.
It was an old knacker, with rust spots everywhere and in a horrible orange colour. I think I drove it for about 3 weeks before seizing the engine up because nobody told me anything about checking the oil and water. As far as I was concerned, so long as there was petrol in it, it would go. Apparently not so.

The first time I flew in a plane was when our family emigrated to South Africa.
I can't remember the total flight time, but it felt like forever. The plane stopped off somewhere to refuel and everybody had to get off the plane while they refuelled and did certain checks. When we all boarded again, my dad had to rush off back to the restaurant that we'd been sat in for a break, because my brother had left his jacket on the back of the chair. I can remember my mum crying when the cabin crew kept saying we would have to leave without him because he was taking too long. He just about made it.

The first film I watched at the cinema was Grease.
I hated it. My mum loved it. I can appreciate it a lot more nowadays, but the memory of me sat there being bored out of my skull for what seemed like four hours still niggles at me. We had to queue around the side of the cinema for about an hour before it actually started. Oh and people could smoke in there too.

The first girl I kissed was called Cheryl.
I always thought it was pronounced with a 'ch' sound, as in 'chips' or 'chisel' and can remember pronouncing her name wrong for months before she actually corrected me by saying it was a 'sh' sound. We kissed behind the Science Block. Our school didn't have bike sheds. She'd been asking me out for ages, apparently because she liked my South African accent, but I kept saying no. For about a year, if I remember rightly.

The first book I read from cover to cover was Lightning by Dean R Koontz.
As a kid, I was more into magazines than books and consequently never finished a book until I was in my twenties. Yes, yes, I know that's bad. I even skipped reading the books for my English Literature exams because I could always find something better to do with my time. Once I'd tasted what it feels like to finish a book in it's entirety, I ploughed on....with more books by the same author, although I never thought any of his others came close. Spookily enough, The Girl cites Lightning as her favourite Koontz novel.

The first job I had was in some engineering Company.
To this day, I have no idea what my actual job title or role was. It was very noisy, very dirty, there were lots of big machines everywhere, they used to design and make things for the Aerospace Industry and everybody used to look like they hated working there. I lasted about six months before realising I could earn more money DJ'ing and would enjoy myself about a million times more.

The first time I got pulled over by the police was for a faulty brake light on my beloved orange Marina.
The only thing that's ever been more traumatising in my life was when my dad used to beat the shit out of me and my brother when we were kids. Because my brake light wasn't working, coupled with the fact my car was so obviously a piece of shit on wheels, the police officer checked every damn thing on my car; lights, tyres, brakes, everything. I had to get the light fixed and show a 'working declaration', stamped and signed by a local garage, along with all my driving documents to the local police station.

The first time I had sex was at a New Years eve party.
It was a horrendous experience and made me wonder just what the whole fuss was about, for a long, long time afterwards. It was a very short lived relationship and made me realise that having sex for the sake of having sex just isn't my bag, baby.

The first time I cried at a movie was my first encounter with The Dead Poet's Society.
Until then, I'd never been moved so much by such a wonderfully poignant story with such believable characters. Although I could never list my favourite ten movies, that one would surely be in there. It still moves me now, but I think the initial magic may be gone.

The first time I published myself on the web was on Livejournal.
I stuck with them for about two years before defecting to Deadjournal and then to Blogger. I had to move my Livejournal and Deadjournal accounts a couple of times because people I knew in real life found them and I hated the fact that I started to censor myself. So far, I've been lucky with Blogger and by remaining anonymous, but should that ever change, I wont even have to think twice about deleting this place.

We can get down like there's no one around. We'll keep on rockin'.

I appear to have chosen a line of work where the double entendres seem never ending:

"Hello, I understand you have a leaky pipe?"

"Yeah, your pipes aren't big enough to cope with it."

"The problem here is the flange."

"Ooh, it's gonna be tight getting it all to fit inside there, but I'll give it a go."

"It's just a dribble. I can sort that out by making it a tighter fit."

"You do realise that's not big enough to take a full dump, don't you?"

"Hi, I've been sent to check out your pipes."

"I'm gonna need to change your nuts. They don't seem to be doing their job properly."

"I would recommend flushing your system out"

"Your nipples probably need bleeding"

"Your hose is causing the problems."

"That cock is dribbling. It needs looking at right away before your problems get any worse."

"Some lubricant might help."

"Has somebody been messing with your pipes?"

I had visions, I was in them, I was looking into the mirror. To see a little bit clearer. The rottenness and evil in me.

A few days ago, I felt ill.
Either bought on from contamination when I was at The Girl's house, or perhaps my poor eating habits. Either way, I felt crap and couldn't possibly face trying to eat anything for fear of it making a sudden and quite unwelcome reappearance. I retired to bed early with a glass of milk (which I'm now informed is not a good idea) and Good Will Hunting. Faced with the fact that I don't own a 'sick bowl', I made sure my path to the bathroom was clear. Just in case.

I'm possibly in the minority here by not having a 'sick bowl'. Every other house seems to have one, but I can't see it making itself appear on the 'must buy' list alongside a new cooker, curtains and/or blinds or the DVD boxset of Skins. And besides, when you buy new things for your house, you like to show them off. I quite like the idea of showing people my new cooker (eventually), but I don't feel the same enthusiasm at the thought of presenting them with my new 'sick bowl'.

I blame the DVD for my strange dream. It was all going so well as I watched The Girl bumping uglies with Minnie Driver, but suddenly took a downward turn when Minnie ripped off her face to reveal it was really Robin Williams. I should have guessed from the hairy hands. If that wasn't bad enough, The Girl ripped her face off and it was me. Now, I like Robin Willliams, but not in that way. I wish I'd have watched Pirates of the Caribbean. Who could possibly say no to a little of The Depp!?

One more drink and I'll be fine. One more girl to take you off my mind.

I don't have any beef with guys who drink per se.
I'm not sure if I can use the word "majority" when I say that when they've had a drink, the majority of guys are ok. Accurate statistics aren't really important.
What I do have a problem with is guys who get drunk and it consequently turns them into a fucking idiot. My use of the word "idiot" is by no means intended as definitive.
How about defining idiot as a guy who thinks he is invincible, either squaring up to others, becoming loud mouthed wankers or just generally acting as if he is the strongest guy around and nobody could take him on.
How about defining idiot as a guy who becomes convinced that every single girl in the same room as him thinks he's irresistible. No girl could possibly resist him, but if they do, he tosses them off by declaring he wasn't interested anyway or even worse, that they must be lesbian.
How about defining idiot as a guy who think that nothing he does or says is offensive to anyone. That doing things like grinding a stone down the side of a car, smashing car door mirrors, letting tyres down, pushing bins over, smashing glass in bus-stops or telephone boxes, pulling flowers out or anything else pointlessly destructive is just 'fun' or 'silly' and that people who think otherwise are just 'Party Poopers'.
How about defining idiot as a guy who think he can talk with his fists.
How about defining idiot as a guy who becomes an embarrassment for his friends.

I'm not a party pooper and I'm well aware that the "majority" (there's that word again) of guys who drink are good fun to be around. I'm also completely aware that having a drink relaxes and crumbles down one's inhibitions, so with guys who tend to be a little tight, it can bring them out of themselves a little. It's the guys who don't know their limits that piss me off. I also find them intimidating and will more often than not remove myself from their presence out of fear for being dragged into something.
What I can't understand is, if guys know what they get like when they've had one too many, why oh why do they continue to push that limit. Why don't they realise that they could stop acting like an "idiot" if they just didn't drink as much. I'm sure the world would be a better place.

I have a friend who is the sort who you would describe as "one of the nicest guys I know". When he's had one too many, he turns....he changes....he evolves into what I can only describe as a sexual leech. He becomes predatory and leery. His conversations include as many double entendres as they can and when he's had way too many, he becomes openly suggestive.
An old friend of mine used to turn into a violent bashing machine. I can remember going to his house for the first time, his girlfriend embarrassed as I asked what all the holes in the walls and doors were.
Even my brother goes into "idiot" mode when he's had too many. Most of the time he's a lovable drunk, but I've been on the receiving end of text messages and phone calls from my sister-in-law, asking for help because he's had too many.
I used to get embarrassed when my mates used to go on the prowl in the pubs and clubs. Trying to get them to see sense always fell on deaf ears and often I'd find myself apologising to the girls and then leaving. Any further attempts by me to make them see sense usually resulted in a pointing, prodding and squaring up situation.

I've never been a big drinker myself. I could probably count on one hand how many times I've been really drunk. I've done my fair share of drinking in my younger days, but I think I lost interest in it quite early from when I used to go clubbing and see all the trouble it used to cause. Getting innocently dragged into fights probably didn't help either.
Nowadays, if I have a drink it's more to loosen up. I quite like the loose feeling. Merry is also a good place to be on occasion.

I had my door mirror smashed on Saturday night. I was staying over at The Girl's house and couldn't park right outside like I normally do. I had to park on an adjacent street, but it was still no more than 20 metres from her house. Not that that make a difference anyway because I've had it done before and I was parked right outside that time. Somebody's 'fun' is a pain in the arse to me. Not only do I have to find the money to replace the mirror and fix any internal workings that got damaged, but in the meantime, any driving I do is compromised by a lack of a vital item.

If you let go, the music should move your bones. Just remember....

Friday night....
Shouldn't I be out somewhere, or doing something, or being somewhere else that doesn't resemble my living room. I'm not depressed about being here. I'm not down about it or feeling sad. It just feels a little odd, like something's amiss.

I haven't worked enough this week, which is disappointing. The week before was great. No point in me losing sleep over it, it's just how it's been. Besides, this week coming could be brilliant.

The new series of Heroes is disappointing so far. I didn't expect that. I just hope Lost keeps up the standard when it returns.

I'm taking part in The Shuffleathon again, over at SwissToni's place.
I'm currently battling to cut my shortlist down. I may be some time because at last count, I was still about 20 songs too many.
Bollocks.

Weird post huh?
Yeah, weird mood.

Electric faces seem to merge. Hidden voices mock your words .

There's Winston Churchill dressed in drag. He used to be a British flag, plastic bag, what a drag.

After suffering a brief spell of incommunicado, we finally exchanged emails tonight.
We haven't arranged a meeting yet. We're still at the 'getting to know you' stage.
He's briefed himself as 30, gay, into sports, professional, reliable and honest.

What more could a guy ask for?!

The candy sweetness scent of you, it bathes my skin, I'm stained by you.

I'd be a liar if I didn't admit that the conversation with The Girl worried me slightly.
We seemed to have a difference of opinion about the similarity between licking and sucking someone's earlobes and going down on a girl.

Say you to me, you're a bird with an eye for anything shiny.

Text messages recieved in during the last two days:

"Boo wuu2 r u comin out meet me nans in ten mins txt me if u wana cuz im at kizzies x"
"Boo i got sum thing 2"
"boo im walkin 2 nans il be ther in ten minits k x"
"boo wot u doin if ur cumin out l8er il meet u k x kylie"
"Im baby sittin now wot u doin crank x kylie"
"pregnant is she omg on ur mums life really thats bad init x kylie"
"Sorry wrong number x"
"Boo wt ugj 2 im sgtiemn x kylie"
"U jurt i.norin me me nww"

I'm presuming it's not the Kylie.

Does anyone have any idea wtf she was talking about?!

Ooh....updates from the next day :

"R u cumin out or wot ive tried callin u bout 12 times cant u ring me on ths number or ask nan 4 a txt she wont mind cheerz love ya cuz xkx"
"Oi u little slut ur get fuckin stampd on dnt threaten me u clown"

Oh dear, there appears to be some trouble brewing....I think?

Trouble is her only friend, and he's back again. Makes her body older than it really is.

When you call me out to do a job, I come. I diagnose the problem (free of charge) and give you my opinion of what's wrong, what needs to be fixed and how much it will cost you.
Here's the general idea:
You call me for a job
I tell you how much it will cost to fix.
You ask me to do the work.
You pay me.

Simple!
You appear to be failing with the last one. Instead, you've decided to invent your own rule:
Now negotiate a price with me AFTER I've done the work.
If I wanted to do that, I'd have diagnosed the problem (free of charge) and then told you what needs to be fixed but not to bother with a price as I want to negotiate with you AFTER I've done the work, 'cos that makes real sense, <>yeah< /sarcasm >.

Last night was the first time in about 3 months that I had a little weed to smoke. It didn't take much. Tonight, I've mellowed out with the last of the stuff. I love how it accentuates music.*
I've been listening to the new James Blunt and KT Tunstall cd's. In my current state of mind, I'm loving both of them. Blunty's new album surprised me, especially as I'd not seen many great reviews. I'm gonna listen to them again tomorrow and post a review up on theauditorium. It will be interesting for me to see if my first impressions of them were influenced by my current state and in fact they ain't all gravy.



* I am not condoning the use of drugs. Drugs are bad, stay away kids!

Here I stand, head in hand. Turn my face to the wall.

As the water pissed out of the broken fitting, it suddenly dawned on me that no amount of training could have prepared me for this.
With my trainers covered, my combats soaked up to the knee and the slight look of panic on the lady's face....all I could think about was how lovely it would be to have a 'smoke'. Almost like an out-of-body experience.
It appears my "everything's under control" face works a treat and less than an hour later, her radiators were throwing out so much heat you could have toasted marshmallows on them.

Love, love is a verb. Love is a doing word. Fearless on my breath.

Building bridges.
Finding escape.
Being part of a decision.
Providing the shoulder to cry on.
Finding something to be amazed at, every day.
Not being afraid to lower your mask.
Wanting to say sorry, even when it's not needed.
Falling in love all over again, every day.
Never allowing the silence to do the talking.
Showing understanding, even when you don't have the solution.
Not being ashamed of your past.
Sharing the good, the bad and the ugly.
Being able to see beneath their skin.
Never taking them for granted.
Conversations that never seem to have an end.
Embracing their beauty while they sleep.
Finding your long, lost friend.
Bearing no grudges.
Butterflies that never take flight.
Kisses that make the world stop turning.

Learning to love yourself first.

Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide. I'll take it by your side.

I'm sad.
Earlier, I was told by The Girl to "stay away". Luckily it wasn't a indicative comment on our relationship. It was more of a suggestion, fuelled by the fact that she's ill.
Still makes me feel sad though, even though she delivered it with the best intentions.

I think I'm gonna sulk for the rest of the weekend.
Sulking isn't a good look for me, especially as I'm contemplating heating up a treacle sponge pudding in the microwave, irrespective of the fact it went out of date in January.

In the call of a new world, as I climb to the next floor.

The advert in the local paper goes live from Thursday this week.
Many leaflets have been pushed through local letter-boxes, although there's still a long way to go with those yet.
My phone is poised!

There's a distinct possibility that I may have a van by tomorrow night I now have a van!

Oh, and I'm also advertising for a lodger. It's a huge step. One that I'm not sure I will go ahead with. I guess I'm just testing the water. The extra money would definitely help though.

I've watched some movies, I've listened to lots of new music and tonight....tonight I've even splashed out on a very cheap bottle of wine.
Yep, it's all go here.
It occurred to me earlier, that it's been over two months since I've had a naughty smoke. Of course, this means the next time I have a smoke it will blow my socks off.

Gimme gimme more. Gimme more. Gimme gimme more.

I'm in the middle stages of putting together an advert to run in our local free paper. I'm using the old "you gotta speculate to accumulate" philosophy here. I'm also eternally grateful for my parents apparent 'money tree'.
The Company that I've been dealing with have finally got back to me, after endless calls and emails, to advise me that my leaflets are now done and I can collect them either later today or first thing in the morning.
So with the leaflets that I'm planning to drop over the next few weeks and the local adverts that will be running for the next 6 weeks (starting next weekend), I'm expecting my phone to be ringing off the hook. By the simple law of averages, a regular advert going into 40,000 households (so they tell me) and my leaflet dropping = some work.
I always have the option of making changes to the weekly advert if I feel like it's not working, so if the work that it generates doesn't feel like it's enough, then I shall be forced to change it to
"Will Plumb For Food", or "Naked Plumber", or perhaps both.

You better run, you better run, you better not wait too long.

Spent a much needed, wonderful time with The Girl over the weekend. I can't even begin to explain how amazing and supportive she is. How lovely it is to have such loving shoulders to bury myself in.
I signed in for emergency work while I was up there, but nothing was forthcoming. My phone was deathly silent, but that's ok. I'm just looking forward to having it ringing off the hook when the time comes.
My mum has offered to look at my finances for me. I know my folks aren't in a position to bail me out of my despair, but she's offered to look at the numbers and help me out as much as she can. She's quite brilliant when it comes to number crunching, so I'm optimistic that she'll be able to point me in the right direction. Tonight, I've dug deep into my bank statements and listed everything that goes out of my accounts. It's not pretty reading, but I also know it could be a lot, lot worse.
I feel like I'm moving in the right direction.
I AM moving in the right direction.
I'm not down and miserable anymore. I'm completely optimistic about things to come. Things will change....Things ARE changing.