Okay. Tomorrow after work I will write. Everything.

Seven

Father please take me back
I don't fit in with these cruel earthlings
I've done my time, please take me home
I was five
I was bad
You sent me here erased my memory
Please fly your spaceship out
And beam me up, don't leave me down here
I'll be so good
From now on.

Shiver

Quick update - still so much to say and apparently little time to say it. I will still lie in bed tonight playing Candy Crush though, sigh. I have been so tired recently that I've felt depressingly weak, so it's an early night tonight I think. Supposed to be doing an Orange Wednesday with Dave but he's nowhere to be seen. I did get back late (done Nantwich, Alsager and Sandbach today - Bradford, Hull & Nottingham tomorrow), but - well, shit.

So I managed a week without beer, YES. Well, kinda. Sam Ward came Wednesday (still recovering from that I suppose) and I went to see Tim Barry/Sam Russo on Sunday. That gig was one of the best I've been to, so intense! HOWEVER, I substituted those two days for Monday and Tuesday. It's now Wednesday, so I feel like I've over achieved, ha ha.

Face is starting to feel less flabby and I played 65 mins for the Bless on Sunday with no fitness concerns at all. Just quality, strength and speed which let me down!

Small steps.

Day 2

Day 2 of no beer week and I feel like shit. No beer still but I'm just run down and feeling uninspired. In the future I want to measure my life by the things I do rather than the things I don't. Need to go for that run tomorrow!

I'm 29 year old and today I saw the inside of a melon for the first time. That could reflect so many things.

Moodswings

So much to say, so little enthusiasm. I have realised so much recently - some good, some bad. I was thinking of writing a short memoir to sum up everything. If I enjoy writing this week, I will.

This week, I have an aim: to have not have any alcohol, to read every day and go for at least three decent runs. I aim to make short updates on here to keep it all tied together.

I must admit, I needed a Duvel last night though. Man of Steel was one of very worst films I've ever seen.

Carthago Est Delenda

My fatigue is San Andreas shuddering slow.
Shuddering slow.

I mark my lintel with bloodstains
and dream of suburbs up in flames.

Every evening when I arrive back at home
and finally lock my front door,
Carthago Est Delenda,
and the pavements are beaches once more.

 

Sometimes You Can Get So Alone It Just Makes Sense

I've never felt more lonely. I'm really worried that my future is bleak. I don't know what to do about it. I've tried to take steps and I just end up worse off; the desperation heightens all the time.

A Film for the Future

Here is a little something I wrote on Dad's iPhone whilst waiting for the pet show at Sea World I. December. So yengry. I just want to say that everything has been so incredible recently that I can barely contain myself!

There are three films I've seen in the last couple of months that will stay with me forever. I should arrange to see them all back to back in the near future. They were all excellent and seemed to speak to three separate parts of my thoughts of the last eight years. They were The Yellow Sea (Quad), Flight (Festival Bay) and Knockaround Guys (Yewdale). 

Killed The Lord, left for the new world.

Well. I'm lying in bed in Dahlia Reserve. It's been eight long years since I've been here, although when the pool water first lapped around me a week ago, not only did it feel like it simply could not have been that long, but also like the misery was instantly washed off and the shit instantly cleaned from my head. I feel a tad unsure about using the word 'misery' as recently I have gained a new and fervent appreciation of all I've had and have in my life. But there's no denying that I have been miserable in the past, and at times suicidal. I say this now because I am reflecting on the past eight years so I intensely, and if this really is to be a new chapter, I have to know what precisely was in this chapter.

I've been reading John Irving and whilst I'm enjoying just reading again, the guy has such a way with words that I'm inclined to try to improve my own. What I like most though is his marriage of realism, poetry and humour. I feel like a pretentious prick when I try to write properly. I usually like to write about farts and beer. But there is one thing I know tonight. If I could combine those three things to form my attitude to life, I'd be well on my way.

I have toyed with the idea of writing everything I can muster about the last few years. I feel inspired but also duty bound. Not that anyone would care, but I know it would help me. At the very least, I should commit my 2012 memories to here before this year commits itself fully to nothing more than mere words. As Owen Meany would say, everything happens for a reason.

A Promise to Resist

In addition to the song idea I scribbled down when it came to me at PAC on Saturday, I'm now sat in the house watching United vs Braga, and that is all I've done.

Proactive recovery.