Outsource

Of course, all we wanted to do at first was fuck. Our energies were hurtling into each other blindly, aggressively and unrelenting and never so clear. A day spent without her was always carried with a sorry pre-occupied urgency just waiting til we next got to go again. And when we went, I never wanted to stop, and when we stopped I just wanted to go again, and so did she, and we went, and went and stopped, and went and over and over until we were so tired we fell asleep in a hot sweaty mass oozing with flesh and heat and wetness not knowing where I began and she ended.

And whenever I had to leave I was always thinking, from the moment I realised I had to go, all through the leaving, 'why do I have to go? Where else could I possibly need to be? life is so clearly here. As I move away from her, there can only be less life, moving back into that strange place where I scratch around, waiting til the next time I see her.' And we texted each other during the day, we sent messages;
'I'm throbbing', 'I can still feel you', 'I can still smell you', 'When can we see each other again?', 'Can I see you tonight?', 'Shall I come over?', 'I want you so much, I wish you were here right now,' 'Come over straight after work,' 'there's so much I want to do to you,' 'I don't ever want to sleep, I just want to be with you, fucking and talking,' 'Oh Yes! Me tooo!!!' 'I can't wait!' 'I can't think about anything else.' 'God, this day is dragging, why they fuck did I have to leave you this morning.' 'Every moment without you is shit.'

And, of course, this is how it goes, and you get suspicious that the intoxicating cloud of lust and physical aching has completely detached you from everything else. All the other crap you do pales in significance. And you get suspicious, and you think about distraction, and you think beyond distraction, and you start not to trust, and you think about madness, and you lose perspective.

Bedhead
Girl in a bed
Girl with a head
Looks so cool
She might be dead

Bedhead
Hair on your head
Was it something I said?
She might be dead

Bedhead
Girl in my head
Hair in my mouth
Hair on the head

Mainly reading Tom Mccarthy's Remainder. excellent.

Just finished J.M Coetzee's Diary of a bad year. good ruse. typical JC sad and sorry style infused with intellect. Shades of Nabokov with metafictional tendency and old man love young girl dynamic.

On the train, finished Mark Kurlansky's Non-violence (A history of a dangerous idea.) Short, punchy and to the point. Good history. I'd like to re-read a few times just to fix it in.

Have started Barak Obama's Audacity of Hope but already flagging.

Also started reading the Bible. Am on chapter 32 of Genesis. Strange tales these people tell. Where's the magic or spirituality?

Enjoyed The Passion on BBC over Easter. Very appropriate. Jesus Aryan and patronising. Disciples weak and moping.

Saw Diary of the Dead. Horrendous. Just really poor. Was difficult to take. Makes Land of the Dead look like a masterpiece. I do really like Land of the Dead though.

Lines to reflect

I want Jesus to touch me.

If I was a girl I wouldn't just want to be desired. I know that men desire me. I know that I am vulnerable to men's desire. I want to look at you and know that you desire me. I want to see it in how you look at me. Not like a crazed lecher but with tender, piercing eyes that I want above all others.

I need to capture. This weekend I went out and did some things. I went to the Dev Cat and I went to a comedy night at the Hub and went to a special invite only night at the Runaway Girl, then went to DQ til 3am on Sunday night. Monday I went to work and felt lousy. While I was evacuating the remnants of the night mid morning, I had the predictable hangover epiphany saying to myself, I will stop drinking. Then I thought, this is a bit much because I really like drinking so I decided I will just stop drinking until Easter. I thought, why not, I like setting myself up with little tests and enduring while resenting them. So, I will be trying to have non drink related fun for the next couple of weeks.

I have been thinking more about Jesus recently. A friend of mine has recently started his own blog  www.downroute66.com. Jesus obviously spent Lent hanging out in the desert by himself with no thrills or distractions outside of meditating and wrestling with his demons, or demon. I find the idea of going off and doing things by myself a very romantic but ultimately fearful notion. I worry about the pending and inevitable boredom and failure, depression and misery too much. So, I admire the man and see hope in being able to spend all this time away from the things that defend us against such things - friends, family, loved ones, work, hobbies, booze - and would like to give it a crack.

One of my strongest inner desires is to go and wander the earth in a directionless yet somehow purposeful and enlightened, liberated manner. Home is where I am. I am where my home is. My body is my home. I love my friends and hobbies but I am aware of them defending me against my sadnesses, and thus protecting me from taking the big risks. Jesus gave up his safety net of friends and frivolity for 40 days to face his enemy head on. I think he is swell. I can experiment with being more like him by giving up the drink for a bit. I will now be relying on freshly squeezed orange juice and soda water for my social lubrication. small steps.

Here is a funny story - a love story

There was a boy and a girl who met and became boyfriend and girlfriend. It was very romantic and they were 'head over heels' in love. They were a real delight to behold - always giggling and flirting and touching and beaming with joy. But, as time went on, the great flourish of burgeoning romance naturally dissipated and the lovers found this hard to deal with and relations became strained. They weren't really able to reconcile their love in a satisfactory way. The boy was awkward and un-effusive, wary of these excitable feelings that seemed to lead him into the tempestuous web of love and the lady grew frustrated at this and felt rejected as she desired to toboggan on the sledge of love off into the sublime swirling unknown.

So, the lady left and moved away and went to another city. When she got to the new city, she found a job which was really much better than the one she had before, and then she found a nice new boyfriend who was really into her and made her very happy.

Hello Blog

I haven't visited since I got a new job 3 months ago. I have some thoughts. The job has given me time not to think about things. I have been busy regenerating externally. I have filled my days with acts and pursuits. I no longer get up in the morning and ask, what do I want to do. I just get up and eat and piss and go to work and do the work and eat and drink and furthermore.

The best thing about the game is that you only lose the game if you think about the game.

There are no right or wrong answers, there are just really good ways of carrying on and heinous ways to carry on. I was called here by angelinthedark, love333 and The_Walrus. They are my friends. Tally ho.

Unemployed days in Sheffield

Too old and too educated
I flop onto the sandy bed
rejected by the sea

Going to Netto for cheap beans
and eggs
A reliable act

The crazies haunt the streets
like the screaming sunlight
Unfettered by window and shape

The crazies greet me,
Asking for pennies.
The 'Penny for the Guy' child
relentless in request
Of pennies
Ashamed
'Don't you have a job?'
Autumn is here

Once in, every now and then
I stare into the receiver
I want it to ring, bearing good news.

I phone them up
The job people, the agencies
Where have you been
What do you want
What can you do
Why are you old
Why are you calling

I must get a job to escape this hell
The child will keep asking me for pennies
The crazies too
I don't want to be
Amongst them
Another day

I look into the mirror and grin

'Good night,' I said.
'Good night,' she replied. 'Have a good evening.'
An order.
And it struck me how imperative it was that I did have a good evening, for in the morning, she would be there with a new question:'did you have a nice evening?' and I would need a reply. For the sake of decorum. For the sake of bonhomie. For the sake of good health. The whole exchange was a demonstration of good health. I am well. You are well. Thank goodness.

I was looking forward to sloping off and sinking into my own selfish inertia. To turn my face steadfastly towards books and screens in order to relieve the nervous exhaustion of sharing spatial and facial interactions with the humans. The journey home normally wizzed by as i giggled to myself, got a semi to some semi-pornographic literature, welled up over emotional passages. My own internal business, sordid, unpalatable and mine.

When I awoke in the morning a sudden wave of nerves erupted. I stared at the ceiling. My environment would soon be filled with questioning, smiling faces. How would I answer them? I thought back. Had I had a good evening? It was worried. I was immersed and absent from the crushing realities of the day. Hardly a suitable answer. Indeed, I read, and watched some rather interesting shows about cats. 6 in a row. I was actually dying to talk to someone about it.

I'd tried it a couple of times, but it always went askew leaving their morning grin sagging into a nervous expression, hopeful but uncertain. I'd start to talk about something I was reading. (For God's sake this was a publishing house! Couldn't we talk about these things?) An amazing book about two brothers who are emotionally and sexually stunted. Great stuff. i could have stayed up reading it all night. You know, there were some really interesting bits and it left me wondering about sexism. I mean, I was enjoying them, and I'm a literary erudite person, but they were pornographic. Really made me think etc etc.... OK. Right. No. Just a quiet one thanks. Bit of TV and catching up on some reading. Yourself? Stayed a bit late. Had this launch to prepare for. You know. Excellent. That's plenty. Ah. Cool, crisp exchange. My smile never dropped.

I'm dreading tomorrow, but I'd better get over it. Writing and thinking about it's not going to help now is it? Just going to exacerbate the situ. Too right my man. Just a game. They're just colleagues. Cool, professional, environment. Indeed. I want nothing less. Right. Eradicate the dwelling and the inertia. Best to replace it with positive functionality. Then there'll be no need for this. No need for this.

Why would you rig a poll to name a cat?

The man who felt too much.
The story of the compulsive froteur who falls hopelessly in love with his many victims.

David Foster Wallace please.