Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em!'s Blurty Day [entries|friends|calendar] Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em! [ website | Sister Diary: Anive ] [ userinfo | blurty userinfo ] [ calendar | blurty calendar ]

[17 May 2008|03:09am] Eek! I am not hammered, but i'm not sober either. The play was ace. But more importantly...Bolb was ace. My little sister was fucking brilliant tonight. She sang, she danced, she inspired me, she showed me things I could do, if only I had the guts. I love my little sister, and i'm so proud of her. After much post show singing and boose, G, Alexandrer and I went to Totally Wired. Rich, I lost your shades. I'm so sorry. I knew i'd lose them, but I didn't think. They just disappeared. I hope they weren't too expensive. I'll pay the price, up until such I can afford. Please, don't get me! Tomorrow is a night I shall enjoy. I will be off on Saturday. I am going to love it. And then, I shall be staying in, maybe. By the way, I love you. I'll just drop that in. You don't need the ego boost, and I don't either, but I do love you. You're sexy, and cool, and I would shitting fuck your knobbing clit off. So there. That won't mean much, but I don't care. I'm pissed! It ain't an ego boost for you, it's am ego boost for me. Because you're so cool I choose to love you. And I do. And i'm fucking cool. And you know what? It don't even matter to me if you never see it, which you probably won't, because i'll always love with the same purity that I love you. The same pure wonderment, the same silliness, the same wanting, the same belief, the same hope, the same everything. But yes....it's my admission. I am the only man in this world, that will ever feel the way I do about you. I don't do it to make you feel good. I do it because I can't help it. I can't feel any other way. Any time I am with friends in a club, I wish you were there, when i relax in a couch, I wish you were kissing me and curliing your arms around my body, any time I breathe night air, I wish you were there to hug my sides and stare into my subconcious, and it never, ever stops. You don't know who you are. I am not here to boost your standing, your ego, i'm not here to provide attention. I don't care for such shit. I just want you to know, somebody loves you, without any thinking, or forethought. He doesn't care whether you like it or not, he just does. He loves you. He's so fuckin' stupid! Oh god, he's stupid. So damned stupid. But he's so stupid, that he doesn't give a damn. And that's it. He'll be okay, just as he's always been. He's amazing, and he knows he is. He's fucking incredible. He's so centered, so mature, so grown up, you'd not recognise him, not now. He's pissed now, and he'll feel embarrassed when he reads this tomorrow, as if it was a haunted writing, a scribe from a spectre, but he will love himself for posting it. Because it's him, and he could be bothered to use the italics code, even though he was tipsy. He talks in the third person now, for no real reason. He's laughing at this fact. It will never make an ounce of difference to him one way or the other, because he's so fucking feeling good right now, and he's so proud of himself for it, but he loves you, and for some goddamned reason, he always will. Silly Phylly. Silly old Phylly. I can tell you though, it's so fucking grand being me sometimes. This is the start of my life. I loved tonight's play, it made me think that even though i'm thirty one, that my life isn't over. I guess the lesson for tonight is, nobody's too old for adventure. I am happy tonight. I've written more bollocks than i've ever written. I talked to a taxi man about things I don't even remember, and I don't care! Sorry about the glasses, Rich. I will re-imburse. I hope so, anyway. Please tell me they weren't worth 393798379379328 quid! Suzanne, I shall Scrabble you tomorrow! I am looking for a good Z word. Bolb, you were fantastic! I'm so proud of you, my little sister! And you....beautiful you...I love you. Pahahaah...that you would ever even return the feeling. Don't matter. Because you don't need to. Hey, night. Yes, I am drunk. But i'm not that drunk. I'll read this tomorrow, and i'll think..."WOOOOOOOOO...I am a loquacious boy!", but I won't feel particuarly upset about it. Because I do mean it all. Right, i'm off to smoke and babble to myself. Nighty! Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|03:09am] By the way. No Rebecca. Tomorrow is D-Day. Let's make this clear. If Rebecca is in the Bell tomorrow night, I will be looking good, and sexy, and nice, and i'l be in my pinstripe jacket and black shirt. It's the only Saturday night in the next twenty or several that i'll be there, and scrubbed up. This is my one opportunity! So let's see. At nine forty five, I shall enter the bell. Christ, i'm such a prick. But I do love being me. Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|03:15am] By the way. No Rebecca. Tomorrow is D-Day. Let's make this clear. If Rebecca is in the Bell tomorrow night, I will be looking good, and sexy, and nice, and i'l be in my pinstripe jacket and black shirt. It's the only Saturday night in the next twenty or several that i'll be there, and scrubbed up. This is my one opportunity! So let's see. At nine forty five, I shall enter the bell. Christ, i'm such a prick. But I do love being me. Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|01:08pm] My goodness. Another chortlesome fun packed late night drunk post. I wasn't even that drunk. Usually when I write while drunk I can't focus on the keys. I suppse I just think that at my time of life it's important to be as honest as I can about what I feel about things, people, and life. I try to deny to myself that those feelings exist, but I cannot. And I never will be able to deny them, unless i'm taken down a new path which obviiates those feelings which I suspect will happen sooner rather than later. I hope so, anyway. I don't mind, really, i'm happy about it...I don't feel an ounce of hurt or longing, which is the funny thing. It's a calming, warm thing, as i've said before. I suspect she probably knows, and I think the only reason I do that sort of writing is that I think in some way it might be quite a compliment. Dunno really. Regarding the "path", I don't know if i'll be going to see if Rebecca is actually about, because I feel like shit. No hangover, just a cold. I coughed myself awake this morning. Literally. I don't think that would be charming. I wish she was in last night. I looked fucking awesome. Though she may well have been perplexed by the bloody nail polish and eye make up. Believe me, I don't do that every night. And I lost those bloody shades! Oh dear me. Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|01:28pm] You're an esper. I think that's what you are. An esper I keep hidden in my heart for summoning later. Have a cup of tea, Miss Esper. You are my fucking Shiva. I think i'm going mad. Well, I am heading for thirty two, so I suppose it's all downhill mentally from here on in, it's a chuckleride towards oblivion. Today is the Frigging A Cup Final. Eagle eyed readers will have read that Liverpool were out long ago, beaten by Barnsley. In fact, none of the elite four clubs are there at all. It's Cardiff City V Portsmouth. Ports-Moof, if you're English, Ports-Mouth if you're from the other side of the ocean, you mucky lucky things! Last night's play was great, for two reasons. One, Bolb was in it, and was brilliant, and two, it was a good play, and the songs were ace. There was a cracking sort of swing tune, and a sort of African ballad thing, which was well lovely. They're doing it at the Theatre Royal! Want to go? I do too, and it's in June. http://www.theatreroyalmargate.com/p1_whats_on/ss08/s32_sex_drugs_and_rick_n_noel.htm Here it is! Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|01:42pm] You know, reading that hilarious post back..I don't regret any single part of it. In fact I think it's rather awesome. Especially as I deftly managed to write at three in the morning after five pints of Murphys and three double jack and cokes. However, incongruity abounds with this line..that sticks out like a severed thumb in a birthday cake. By the way, I love you. I'll just drop that in. You don't need the ego boost, and I don't either, but I do love you. You're sexy, and cool, and I would shitting fuck your knobbing clit off. So there. Oh man. Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|05:23pm] I've been lazy all day. My energy has been zilch. I have smoked too much, drank too much, and thought too much, and danced too much. Last night I was dancing in the Margate nightclub A bit on the Side, which is a club tucked away at the side of the road leading down to the now defunct Dreamland. As far as clientele are concerned, the women are numerous and quite nice, as they manage to avoid the usual Margate stereotype of being screeching white stilettoed Traceys. However, there is that lack of a "spark", as I was talking about a few days ago. I feel sort of silly trying to dance, when I clearly lack an ability to go with the music. I look like a spastic crash test dummy on an electric fucking fence. I arrived home, though, happy and wrote that post. At a disgustingly late hour. When I woke up today, I felt like a shit farm. A farm full of shit, if you will. I spent the day scratching my head at Scrabulous, lying down and watching the Frigging A Cup Final, and generally enjoying the once in a dull-time experience of being off work on a Saturday. It's so nice to not have to mentally plan for going to work this evening. Routine and work, drinking and smoking can often dull my senses to a point where I start to become numb to feeling and ecstasy. Smoking is a sedative, drink is a depressant. Combined, they cause the mind to wilt and the body to sag. There's nothing essentially wrong with my body, it's lean and tight and all that, but when you have the lifestyle that I do, it can be a terrific effort just to move it around. It's a little like dragging a sack of potatoes around with you, with your brain attached. It's partly my own fauly, because lately i've been very, very lazy with myself. I have singularly failed to curb my drinking, and this is responsible for my lethargy. Moving on now, to something else I was thinking about. While I was laying on my side and breathing slowly...relaxing and letting my chest rise and fall, I thought about my heart beating. I listened to it, aware completely and acutely that it is finite, and I am alive only because it still decides to beat. It is an extraordinary device, the heart. It is like a clock ticking, a beating and thumping timer. I constantly think about mortality, I wonder when i'll die, and how. I muse upon if i'll do all the things I want to do before that happens. I think about how strange it is to be alive now, concious, and thinking, and me. In a century from now, I shall be gone, but what will be my imprint? Who will I make happy? For what reason? I've never been religious, but i've prayed before. Religion and it's place is something I am entirely open about, though I dislike how it has been misinterpreted and used for terrible actions in the past. I happen to believe that, despite my own non-religious views, I think every single religion has something good to teach, some sort of moral to give. It's up to the human being, the individual mind to use these things effectively and to decide for themselves. I think that my thinking is best described like this. I am alive, and I am therefore, a miracle. To not appreciate this would be churlish. I have been given a life and a heart, and a brain, a mind, naughty bits, and my reason for living is not religious, but I am an open, thinking, curious being. I like to think there's a reason for all this, and if not, i'll make up my own reasons. I did make a prayer once, actually. It's the only serious one i've done. I prayed for a miracle to happen. Of course, it didn't. But my sacrifice was something that surprised even me. I still stand by that sacrifice. And I shall carry it through if it comes true. I loved writing this post. For many reasons. Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|08:26pm] I have spent far too much money in the last week. Er...about one hundered and fifty pounds, in fact. If not more. Oops. I think i'm going to go on Britain's Got talent, because the country needs me. My act will centre on the premise that I literally don't have a pot to piss in. This will instigate and legitimise the rest of the joke, which simply involves me relieving myself on the stage...feeling a delightful warm, stinking stream of yellow piss leaking down my trousers and out of the end, the steam rising from the hot stage as it evaporates. I would then attempt to pull myself off in front of the judges, despite their relative digust, as well as my own antipathy towards them reducing my blood flow, rendering my filthy dangling penis limp and flailing, like an old flag. And then i'd hold up a picture of a throbbing labia. All this conducted with a stony silence on my face. Get your lovely gas giants here!

[17 May 2008|10:03pm] I think The Fast and the Furious is on. It's one of those odious films designed specifically for the twenty something petrolhead male, as it's full of tits, both literally and figuratively. And cars. Lines upon lines of bloody cars. Honestly, if I was watching this through a shop window i'd think I was staring into a car showroom. With pricks in it. Get your lovely gas giants here!

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