Am I more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear, because that's just who I am this week.

It's strange, almost unsettling when you look back.
When I read back through things that spilt out of this head, through these fingertips.
Same person, just completely different.

One of the reasons I'm finding it so hard to let go of this blog.

I trust you. If it's already been done, undo it. It takes two. It's up to me and you, to prove it.

My solicitor....actually, he's not my solicitor, he's just a solicitor that I'm paying fucking stupid money to take the Lettings Agency to court....is taking the piss with me. I get the feeling that he's purposely delaying things, or double/triple/quadruple checking things with me, in order to slow the whole process down. After all, I'm paying him stupid amounts of money per hour, plus VAT to help me with my case. Why on earth would he be in any kind of rush.
After our initial discussion back in December, and his subsequent taking on of my case, I now find myself at the point where we can actually take the Lettings Agency to court over breach of contract on many , many levels.
It's been a long, long road so far. And a very expensive one.
I may not win the case.
Or I may win the case, but not actually get any money from the Lettings Agency. All they have to do is plead poverty or bankruptcy. Then, they can set themselves up as a new Business under a different name and carry on trading as normal. As if nothing ever happened. It doesn't seem right to me. Bu then, I am but a tiny, insignificant person when it comes to the world of Business and Money and Power.

You say; "I love you,. boy". I know you lie. I trust you all the same. I don't know why.

If you don't like the taste, then you should have never swallowed.
If you flinch at his arm around your shoulder, then you should have never said yes.
If you long for time on your own, then you made the biggest mistake.
If you curse the day, then you have nobody else to blame....but yourself.

I know you're not stupid.
I know you can't just erase.
I know you feel awful.
I forgive you.

Because I know that you can't be alone.

We can play it safe, or play it cool. Follow the leader, or make up all the rules. Whatever you want, the choice is yours. So choose.

Sometimes it takes a while to realize that you're actually in a good place.

I am in a good place.

She says; "The only thing I've ever found, that's greater than it always sounds..... Is love"

Sometimes love gets in the way of making the right decisions.
Or perhaps my judgement is clouded and I'm not seeing the bigger picture.

I can do it like a brother, do it like a dude. Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you.

How time has flown. Dexter is almost six months and growing into a strapping young lad, although I took him to the vets the other day to have his dangly bits 'doctored'. Poor little guy!
He's now stopped his previous routine to wake me up; crawling under the bed covers to nibble at my toes and ankles. Nowadays, he just climbs on top of me and paddles away until he feels me stirring. Lovely and cute as hell, but not so at stupid o'clock!
Since I've been in this house for a good few weeks now, and he's been....*ahem*....doctored, it's time I thought about letting him out. He obviously wants to explore outside and spends a lot of time on the window sills, staring outside at what could be. I can only hope he comes back and doesn't do what my previous cat, Jewel did and just never come back.
A while ago, I promised my niece that I would take care of her cat when I got back into my own place. She moved away from her parents and found herself with two problems that prevented her from taking her cat with her; finding a rented property with a landlord that was ok with pets, and a boyfriend that came out in a horrible rash due to allergies he never knew he had. I'm still working out the logistics and timing of bringing her cat over, but it feels like sometime soon would be a good idea. I might have to think about giving her a more appropriate name though. I hope she wont mind.

You got wires, going in. You got wires, coming out of your skin. You got tears, making tracks. I got tears, that are scared of the facts.

My Uncle died last week.
I can't say we were close at all, but the effect on my family, especially my mum; who's brother he was, has darkened my insides and left me with a twisted, knotty feeling.
He's in a much better place now, wherever that may be.

A few weeks ago, I moved out of my parents house. Dexter, Marley and I are trying to pretend that everything's alright here. It quite obviously isn't. We're all doing okies though, despite everything that's happened and is currently happening.

Forget me not, I ask of you. Wherever your life takes you to.

Around 10am today, my dad wandered into where I work and told me my Uncle was dead. Apparently so ill and beyond any kind of recovery, a decision was made to switch off his life support machine.
When I went round to see my folks after work, the first words out of my mum's mouth was that he wasn't dead at all.
He's still on life support.
Stupid fucking American laws, rules and regulations.

Hopefully soon, he will be at peace.

You find some best friends. We'll hold each other and I'll turn the bells.

Just a few things to say tonight....

•  The new guy at work has really bad B.O. He may not be aware of it, or it may be a medical condition, but it's unpleasant and people are starting to talk.
•  Since he started, and I'm not pointing the finger here, but it's a bloody big coincidence, someone is leaving an awful mess in the guy's toilets lately. Specifically, the toilet pan. Sometimes it looks like someone's been trying to flush away a poop from an elephant....without success!
• I feel a lot better after ranting last night.

They're the ones who'll hate you, when you think you've got the world all sussed out. They're the ones who'll spit at you. You will be the one screaming out.

Feeling pretty numb, the consequence of our conversation last night.

After dropping it on me at the very last minute, last Sunday night; "I'm going away for a few days. Actually, until Friday evening. I'm going somewhere to sort my head out. I just need some time, some space, some peace to get some kind of order going in my head. I have so many things going on in my life. I need this. And I hope you can give me this time. You wont be able to reach my phone; no calls, no text messages. But I promise you, it's all going to get sorted out and will be for the best. You have to trust me."
I know you have a lot going on. I know you have things you need to get your head around. I want to help you to help yourself, so yes, even though you give me just a few hours notice....I respect your wishes and take what you've just told me as the truth. I trusted you on your words. And I gave you that space, that silence, that peace.

You could never have kept this hidden from me. That was just a ridiculous thought.

When you actually opened up a little last night, after some persuasive and persistent conversation from me....When you dropped the bomb, when you talked about yourself and your addiction, and delivered an almighty kick in my face with your words....I felt numb. I felt detached from myself. I felt pathetic and stupid. I felt scared and angry. I felt cheated and hurt. I felt sick to the stomach. I felt completely worthless and selfish. I felt a thunderous mix of emotions, the likes I've never felt before. But above all else....I felt completely numb.

You lied to me on Sunday night. And I discovered that you'd lied to me before, many, many times. I told you last night that I could understand why, but tonight, the more time I've had to think about it....The more time I've had to think back over the last few weeks and months, the pieces have been slotting into place and I'm left feeling really stupid for not realising it before. But then....I've always trusted you on your words. Last night, you took all that trust, scrunched it up in a ball, fuelled it with deceit and words that meant nothing, and set fire to it until there was nothing left but cinders and ash.

I simply don't understand what it's like to be addicted to heroin. I don't know enough about that drug to understand what drives the addiction, how it makes you feel, why you would risk so much to feed your habit, not to mention how somebody like you could be smoking that shit!? I've been reading up on it tonight....what the effects are, what it does to your body and brain, how addictive it can be, how difficult it is to come off, how it takes over and destroys lives, how easy it is to relapse - no matter how much one wants to come off it, and it's been scaring the shit out of me.
I'm not a prude. I'm no saint. You know that I've dabbled with various drugs in my past, but I've never touched anything like that. In fact, I've always been damning of those types of drugs, speaking of how I've lost friendships to shit like coke, heroin, ketamine and the likes. And while we sat there talking about how I thought people who got hooked on those sorts of drugs had basically written off their lives, and potentially their relationships with friends and loved one's, you sat there and agreed with every fucking word I said. In fact, you made a point of telling me how harmful smoking weed was, knowing that I still used to do it myself on rare occasions. You fucking hypocrite!

I think you're unbelievably brave for opening up and admitting it to me last night. Of that, there's no question or doubt in my mind. And the fact that for that week away, you had checked into a detox clinic and had an implant inserted under your skin to rid you of this horrible thing is not only completely admirable and a step in the right direction, but also shows that you are serious about kicking this. Is that enough though?! And once again, this is where I feel totally selfish, but I can't help feeling that because you have destroyed all the trust we'd built up, can I really trust you and believe in you?! I want to. I truly do. I don't want to turn my back on you, I really don't. But, I can't begin to trust you again unless you are totally and utterly open and honest with me. And that's in your hands.

You wanted a few days of space, peace and silence. I gave you that. I am asking for the same.
What I've written here is my way of venting my thoughts, my frustrations and wringing out the emotional baggage that's all but drowning me. But I've hidden none of it from you. Everything here, and more, is what we've just spoken about on the phone. I needed you to listen, painful as it may have been for you to hear it. I can easily come back and edit or simply delete this post, particularly if I come back and realize it was all written with frustration, angst or as an immediate reaction. But I wanted you to hear how I feel about it, right now.


I'm sorry.

Strength and courage overrides the privileged and weary eyes of river poet search naivete. Pick up here and chase the ride.The river empties to the tide. All of this is coming your way .

It's difficult to look forward with positivity, the ominous news of my Uncle's terminal condition is casting dark cloud over all of the family here.
Trying, trying, trying not to allow it hang over me too much, but my parents gloominess is difficult, bleak and affecting. Naturally.

Attempting to push all my senses and focus on restoring the house into some sort of habitable state.

No more mention of the doom, the gloom and the inevitable.
Pushing forward with the new, the fresh and the opportunities.

Pick up my guitar and play. Just like yesterday. Then I'll get on my knees and pray. We don't get fooled again.

Christmas day I find out....
My niece was proposed to.
My Uncle in America is told his cancer has spread and is now terminal.

Pfffft.

Be my friend. Hold me. Wrap me up. Unfold me. I am small. And needy. Warm me up. And breathe me.

I can't seem to keep up with blogs anymore. Not meaning that the blogs that I like to dip into every now and then post so much stuff that I fall behind or get lost. I mean, very often lately when I follow a link from this blog, the writer has either stopped posting, or the blog had been deleted. Even the ones I don't link from here, but keep in my bookmarks have been disappearing slowly.
And once, when I would click away at links from other people's blogs, or just surf around, I would often stumble upon other people's little spaces that would catch my attention. I'd bookmark it, sometimes link it, sometimes comment.... But now....Now there just seems to be a huge reduction.
Of course FaceFuck and Twatter have done a great job shovelling the earth on top of the blogger's coffin. But I find it such a shame, because even though I do FaceFuck, it's just not the same. On there, I have to be so much more like me. And I much prefer being the anonymous me.

Blogging....It's dying.

I'm in the darkest place, I think I've ever been. You can see from the scars on my face, I'm not where I'm supposed to be.

Wow!
Loads has been happening, it's hard to know where to begin.

I guess the most important thing is that after the New Year, I will have my own space back. It's taken a very long time, it's cost me a lot of money and it's been gruelling and stressful, but finally those wankers who were digging their heels in whilst living rent free in my house have finally been turfed out.
I wouldn't wish anybody else to have to go through what I've just been through, but still, that part of it is over now. Now begins a lengthy and once again very costly exercise to attempt to recover some of my outstanding money; from rent arrears, damage to the house, stolen furniture, legal costs, court costs etc etc etc. Sheesh! But at least I can now concentrate on sorting my shit out, in order to get back into my own space, whether it's that house or somewhere else.

For the past few years, some of my Bloggy friends have enjoyed compiling, discussing, comparing and swapping lists of top ten albums of the year gone by. This year is no different.
So head over to The Auditorium to see what our top ten albums of 2010 have been, in a countdown stylee.

I never was a sinner or a saint. We fight between the colours, now checkmate. We all have two decisions, mark the date. And you must make your choice before it's too late.

I appear to have adopted a kitten. He's now eleven weeks old and totally adorable, even though he has some strange habits, including an odd fascination with my toes and a tendency to like to sleep under the bed covers with just his head poking out.
I named him Dexter.

Over the last few months; I've been organising gigs, co-producing and mixing tracks in a recording studio and found myself managing an up and coming band.
Who would have thought!?

Things have changed. Things have moved forward. Things are very different.
And it's just the tip of the iceberg.

You said something, you said something stupid like; love steals us from loneliness.

I'm considering adopting a kitten.

I know what I like and I like what I know. Getting better in your wardrbobe, stepping one beyond your show.

I'm all about left, all about four and all about green.
I'm all about Free Trade, all about tattoos and all about Marlboro Lights.
I'm all about boxers, all about Damien Rice and all about red wine.
I'm all about coffee, all about scented candles and all about brunettes.
I'm all about scars, all about cats and all about Johnny Depp.
I'm all about recycling, all about weed and all about independence.
I'm all about strings, all about curing cancer and all about Weetabix.
I'm all about lyrics, all about cheese-on-toast and all about watching movies where they belong; at the cinema.
I'm all about washing your hands, all about skirts and all about live concerts.
I'm all about glasses, all about freedom of speech and all about tulips.
I'm all about jeans, all about artistic talent and all about the Hammond Organ.
I'm all about horror movies, all about black & white pictures and all about long hair.

I'm all about music, all about music and all about music.

God bless us, everyone. We're a broken people living under loaded gun. And it can't be out-fought. It can't be out-done. It can't be out-matched,. It can't be out-run.

People I'd like to share a spliff with:

In no particular order....

Stan Laurel.
I'd like to tell him how much I love Laurel & Hardy movies. And how they helped me through a tough childhood.

Quentin Tarantino.
I'd like to ask him for a cameo in his next movie.

Damien Rice.
I'd like to ask him who she is.

Drew Barrymore.
I'd like to ask if I could do the music supervision on her next project.

Johnny Depp.
'Cos he's cool as fuck.

Howard Marks.
To listen to more of his fabulous stories.

Danny MacNamara.
I'd like to convince him to get the band back together.

Bruce Forsyth.
To see if he was still funny.

Zach Braff.
To just talk somethin' and nothin'.

The guy who created Chocolate Hobnobs.
And I'd shake that man's hand.

Angelina Jolie.
If I'm honest, to hopefully get into her knickers.

Robert Plant.
To thank him, for everything he's done and is still doing.

Robbie Williams, Kate Winslett, Dr Dre, Russell Brand, Lee Evans, John Cusack, Britney Spears, Foghorn Leghorn, McLovin, the Chief Of Police, Elbow, Al Pacino....Thom Yorke........my high school art teacher............Ziggy Stardust............Tom Baker....

Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again, today. And the worst part is, there's no-one else to blame.

Sat in my room now, reflecting on the day.
Spent the best part of six hours drinking coffee and talking about my previous failed relationships.
I concluded that I'm obviously a difficult person to 'be with'.
She concluded that my experiences have made me the person I am today; over protective, guarded and difficult.

And then she told me to never give up.

The guy I like is married, He showed me the ring on his Thursday finger.

The girl who works in accounts doesn't seem to have any idea that the guy who works in the fleet department sleeps around on his wife. I think I heard him talking about tenth wedding anniversary plans. She seems to have no idea about him. Or maybe she chooses to ignore it. Either way, it makes me feel really sad to see it so close up.

On the second week I was there, I had the girl who works on reception wrapping her arms around me and sobbing her little heart out. A friend of hers was on a life support machine and that was the day they were turning it off.

Last week, the girl who works on the other reception desk was telling me about how she ended up throwing her husband of 25 years out. A guy came into work one day, sat down in front of her and proceeded to inform her that her husband was having an affair. Not with this guy's partner, but with the wife of a guy who works for him. And apparently, this guy said he told her not because of the moral reason, but because it was now affecting his work. And he held a very important role which simply couldn't be allowed to slip. So she confronted her husband, he admitted it, she kicked him out, he went to stay with his parents, then got a rented flat with this other girl he was having the affair with (who presumably got treated the same by her partner), split up with her after less than a month together, then she took him back in. Crazy.

They play stupid pranks at work. The latest I heard about today, was another department Manager complaining about having a horrible smell in his office for hours, and tracing it to an opened can of sardines in the depths of his drawer.

All the guys at work fancy the receptionist and the girl in accounts, except obviously her husband; the guy who works in fleet.

We can, and do, play any music we want in the showroom. The music all comes from a laptop in the office. I checked the folder the other day; it was reading over 60 Gig. Now that's a lot of music. It can be as random as hearing Frank Sinatra, followed by The Pussycat Dolls, followed by INXS, followed by Led Zeppelin, followed by Barbra Streisand, then killed off by those cheeky little monkeys from Glee. Which is a fabulous show!

I take my own Decaf coffee in, which I keep in my drawer. My desk is anally tidy. I have a small plant on my desk, which the others find amusing. The others are pretty shit. Well, ok, maybe that's a little harsh, but they seriously don't know how to earn themselves more money by putting in just a tiny bit more effort.

Lot's of quirky characters.
Kinda like it here.