I haven’t written a blog in a while, in that time I’ve been thrown out of home, homeless in the street, had an adventure, which involved drinking gallons of wine and sleeping on a new friends sofa. I’ve moved home with the parents made friends with the father, been to a classic car show and I’m due to move into my new flat in Waterloo on Saturday. Except it has no sofa, bed, fridge, washing machine, toaster, kettle, tv, anything to be honest except a carpet.
Back to the ‘throwing out’ thing; I speedily booked into a hostel but quickly made friends in bars and ended up, despite paying for three nights in this hostel spending only one, I wasn’t sharing a room with a pair of chaps I didn’t know, the rest of the expedition was spent, as I said, on friends sofa’s (to which i must thank Jake & Will) . I didn’t get a shower for a week (I did wash, don’t worry…and buy new clothes). I drank myself so splendidly silly every evening that most mornings/afternoons were spent tracking down my coat and bag. Naturally this was a good time to find somewhere new to live and given the predicament I more or less took the first place I could, above an estate agent in Waterloo. Hardly grand but it will do until I can get round to getting myself a splendid apartment with columns near or around Sefton park…or fuck off to France on another ‘what the hells going to happen adventure’. I really should have taken my own advice and hopped into a hotel, it would be the orthodox thing to do but once again tainted by advice of friends I did what would work for the sane, this means it never works for me, a lesson learnt etc.
So what next, well I’ve got to move everything required to furnish and render a flat functional, up 2 flights of narrow stairs to flat four at 138 Crosby road without breaking everything. Aided by a van and a Range Rover it shouldn’t be difficult getting it there, getting it in shall be the hard bit. From my new mission control shag pad I can orchestrate the next abode as well as expanding my income by expanding on my skills as an entrepreneur. This means watching dragons den and reading the money section in the Sunday times.
Anyway it’s getting late and I’ll update you all on things as they progress
Well, more; opinion…….
So I went to see the highly rated film known as ‘Inception’ the other day…in an ‘imax’ cinema. It was a curious film, the characters weren’t great, the narrative was pretty simple only layered to the teeth, simply to induce a feeling of complication and therefore by sheer bafflement, that which causes a feeling of intelligence in the dim. I personally don’t like these kinds of films, all preposterous over complicated special effects to appeal to the visual nerd who brags about how many dots exist on his television screen. I prefer films of a simpler narrative, profound characters and an unpredictable plot. Going to see it in an ‘Imax’ cinema didn’t help either, frankly the screen was too big, it screwed with my eyes and I spent the entire film shaking like a leaf from bass so intense it would measure highly on the Richter scale. I sat there thinking; it would be much better if we could cut away all the intense ‘experience’ shit and get down to just watching a bloody film.
Anyway, I came out of it sore in the head because the screen was ridiculous, trying to imagine the film without the ‘Imax’ bit. I concluded it wasn’t enjoyable mainly due to taste. I thought the Matrix was crap as well; perhaps I have to see it again in a normal cinema whereby I could possibly enjoy it. If you liked the Matrix you probably will like this. My recommendation; don’t watch it in an ‘Imax’ it’d be like doing an exam in a washing machine.
A Painting of a naked lady, for no reason whatsoever....
Prose, prose, prose, I must write something, the blog can’t exist without me. It does make me feel somewhat responsible to this little diary accumulating of the year(s) with this and that and whatnot.
The music I’m listening to is Chopin, loud moody, gloomy, and exciting. A bit like me at times, or you, for we all go mad at times don’t we? Or do we? Or is it just me…..perhaps… and those in mental hospitals.
Get on with it….
I’ve neglected to scribble and eventually type for this, due to a desire to move abode. I need a flat and I know exactly where it must be (sefton park, Liverpool) and how it must be decorated and so, I’ve decided to move regardless of a need to eat.
I also realised the other day drinking tea in the garden under a blazing sun that I need a degree to exist above the breadline in the fast approaching future. So I’m going to do an art history degree. It was a toss up between that and an astro physics degree… and the former won. I was also contemplating studying literature or language but I considered thus; if I study writing, what am I going to write about. The idea of hopping to and from brilliant pieces of art across Europe won…naturally.
Now I’m going to plod off, I’m trying to convince my friend to give me a lift to the pub but I bet I’ll have to walk all 2 miles. It’s surely good for my system…the pint of beer also; I’m sure
Sebastian Horsley is dead, a figure like a flower from a past, bright among the withered rest of us in the winter of modern living. A man with a philosophy of a by gone age, who lived a life of decadence and debauchery, shunning the hypocrisy of modern life’s health obsession and efficiency for freedom, liberty and entertainment. This man lived against the modern world, turning his back on what was deemed politically correct, to live how he wished. Such a philosophy of strong character is in my opinion the bravest and most noble existence.
He was a showman; he lived to cause a fuss. People looked at him, as if through a window into a world the modern era calls repugnant, a world which looks upon us as unfree and trapped by it’s own regulation. He was a libertine and a legend, a character free of restrictions, capable of showing us an alternative existence.
Although i never knew him personally; I quite like the idea of Sebastian Horsley, and idea’s never die…
I’m starting to feel tired, I work at my desk on the opposite side to my bed, a bed directly behind me beckoning me to the land of nod. As you’ve probably guessed I didn’t sleep last night, instead I read almost all of ‘a briefer history of time’ , listening to the Eurythmics from my mobile phone.
I pre-warn you now; some of the content in this blog may contain scenes of piss poor spelling and possibly hints of hideous grammar due to sleep starvation.
The reason for this lack of sleeping or awake-athon as I never call it, is to recalibrate my sleeping pattern so the sleep bit happens when it’s dark and the awake bit happens when light. Naturally (and yes I know I’ve discussed this prior) I sleep when the sun shines and rise just in time for the moon, if it was 1610 I’d have probably been burnt alive for ware-wizardry or something.
I mentioned before i was reading a famous physics book about quantum mechanics and relativity, space time and so on…i really like physics. it proves a brilliant challenge. Some would call it mental sadism, i suppose that’s a fair enough assumption because it is, through strain and mental affliction, quite a pleasure. I’m quite content to be an amateur astro-physicist, no hefty pressure and a potential degree to indulge in later on, when comfortably financed, situated in an old crumbling ruin. It truly is a test of the imagination, a bit like exercise, pushing the vividness of mental imagery with every new idea, theory or discovery.
I’m beginning to get used to the medicine I’m destined to take forever to cure my madness (bipolar). Ceasing to appear constantly drunk, numb and now more capable of stringing a decent sentence together, I’ve began to revel in the novelty of concentration. You normal folk have it easy, to me it’s the most bizarre and splendid ability. I found myself thinking ‘life’s gonna be a doddle like this’. It’s as if I’ve been training for the 100 meters for years, keeping up with all the other runners, not being able to beat, but merely keep up, whilst lugging a fully laden SAS soldier’s rucksack as well. Well now the rucksacks been dragged off and woooaammmmmmmmffffff….i’m off like a genius, ploughing through books and scribbling and scribbling and reading and drawing and everything that requires focus and concentration. Anyway…besides this there are side effects, mild paranoia, weight gain (i seriously need to work out) and drowsiness, but the concentration alone makes up for this….oh and I can’t drink booze anymore, this being my favirout past time, to lose is…well I’m not arsed, I’m saving a bloody fortune. I’ve decided anyway that the debauchery must now be pushed a side, it’s an opportunity to dig my heals in and make up for years of lost productivity….
I'm ready for my Knighthood your majesty......
For this one I sought inspiration from the news, in particular the Telegraph and Guardian websites. I would‘ve used The Times-online, I used to use it as we get The Times at home, but alas they’ve started charging for an online subscription and I’m not hardcore enough for that. So what do we have? Alistair Darling bleating on about how the Tories have misled voters on spending cuts. Well aren’t we all sympathetic, silly old buggar from a silly by-gone party which misled everyone into believing they were somewhat competent and moral, perhaps i’m suffering from the ‘hate the party you grew up with’ syndrome. This article popped up in the guardian and interestingly doesn’t appear to have made the telegraph – what a surprise.
i'm a Spanner, don't you know...
The Queens new years honours list has revealed the latest batch of OBE, MBE, and Knights. I ponder my own eventual knighthood at times, usually during fits of boredom in queues or on the lavatory. Sir Peter Mears…it’s definitely got a ring to it, well it does to me, I’ll promise to go around firing people like that Sugar chap on television whilst hopefully acquiring a regal fortune on the way.
MI5 have been sleuthing about, finding all kinds of crawly creatures ready to pop a cap in England’s bottom… always the same though isn’t it? I mean nothing to fuss about, we’re British and so in the plight of the most avid danger, we have a habit of plodding on as if nothing is happening. A bloody good trait it is. The only ones incapable of maintaining such a standard not beyond the coast was the previous government but less political bashing if you would Mr Mears.
Am i bovvered!!...Old boy.
I’ve now come to the conclusion that this experiment in current affairs is boring…I could yap on about other stuff in these two ‘papers’ but sure enough, at work, come lunchtime you’ll have tuned into your news of choice online, quite figuring out for yourself what’s going on. Unless of coarse you’re me, who when lunchtime began during a day of office ‘toil’ I would make a break for a decent restaurant, there I would gorge on steak and consume a bottle of wine before plodding back a tad tipsy to commence with the afternoons work.
Enjoy your lunch!