If you’re waiting for the right moment to do something, you’ll be waiting a long time, cos there is no right moment for anything! Similarly, if you’re waiting to meet that special someone – that one person out there, somewhere, who understands you – well, unless you’re ready to be fooled, you’re wasting your time. Whats the chances that you’re actually just waiting to meet yourself? I mean, if you’re going to meet someone and you’re prepared to accept that they don’t understand you hardly in any way whatsoever, then you’re going to find that you have a road ahead of you learning about that other person and about how you yourself can or can’t change to meet them in some reasonable acceptable compromise. If you are expecting to one day meet someone who is so very understanding of you, that they are the perfect match, and so like you, its hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, well what sort of a relationship would the be? Perfect? Or just bloody downright boring and pathetically self deceiving, in reality, that other person is just pretending to be what you want, and you, like some big stupid idiot, have fallen for it – what a Berk! And that other person is a Berk too!
Well anyhow, I like to just get on with things in my life, so thats why I have been so successful, so I thought I’d just share that with you – I was just doing something and thinking about how in a perfect world, I’d get this right, or that, and its never really exactly what I hoped for, and how frustrating it is to be less than perfect, so the lesson is, who gives a fuck? I mean, if things aren’t perfect, well thats not your problem is it? Thats their problem! Your problem is not theirs, therefore, don’t worry about it!
Ok, as you were, go back to being an idiot, just pretend I never said anything, its for the best after all, things will get better if you keep trying, or they might do if you don’t, who knows? 😀 😀 ❤
I wrote these 2 pieces on my phone at work during down time, one is a true story, the other a partial fantasy, I wonder if you can guess which is which!
Content Warning – Sex + Projectile vomiting
In 1981, the gov pulled the plug on the funding for my apprenticeship and I ended up on the dole along with a load of others – the only job I could find was working at a scrap yard – it was the worst job I ever had in my entire life, and the pay was crap too! £1. An hour! I found myself literally, metaphorically, and any other way you like, “on the scrap heap!”
We used to sort all this smashed up metal from cars that were torn apart by this huge machine, there was Colin, who’d been in the army, and Chris who’d been in the navy, there was little Lenny, a black kid who was only 16, his mum used to come and pick him up after work. Then there was Ivor, a psychopathic crane driver, and the foreman, who we called Selwyn Froggit, cos he looked like the TV character of that name. Selwyn was a big tough looking guy, he wore a donkey jacket tied at the middle with string – one time he overheard one of the guys refer to him as Selwyn, he just said “If I ever hear you say that again, I’ll splatter your snot-box” I suppose you could say he was good at conflict resolution, good leadership skills – follow me, or else!
The lads there used to call me Tojo, after the Japanese emperor – yeah, I never heard of him either, I was pretty mad about my being stuck in that job, but I got to know a few people better and I suppose it was ok.
At Xmas, the lads were planning to go for a drink after work on the last day, so I got the bus to work, cos I knew I was going to be having a few, I think it was meant to be a bit of a party in the pub, I don’t know if it was organised or just off the cuff, but everyone was talking about it all week looking forward to it.
So we got to this pub, it was a big old cottage style of pub, old oak beams, that sort of place, really cosy, especially at Xmas, really busy & bustling with merry makers, quite good really. It was probably snowing too, it was a cold winter that year, I do remember there being a lot of snow around at that time, so it was warm and cosy in the pub & I was glad I’d turned out for it.
I was only 17, so technically not old enough to drink, (it’s 18 here in the UK for booze) but most pubs were fairly relaxed, no one ever asked for ID back then, it was “yeas, you can have a drink”, or it’s “no, get out!” I don’t remember any trouble at the bar, I expect the older guys got the drinks & brought them back to the table to save problems, of course I’d have been happy with that, it wasn’t every day I could have a few beers in a pub without having to worry about rules & regulations.
So anyway, there we were at our table, in this packed out pub, probably 4 or 5 of us at the table & about 7+ pints and some glasses of vodka and whisky & you name it, crisps & wot not. Lenny always got a lot of stick, cos he was so young, People kept trying to spike his drinks, but he wasn’t having it, I think he just drank some shandy or something. I was low on funds, so I drank Lenny’s since he didn’t want it, and pretty soon I was really drunk. Someone told me Lenny’s drink had at least 3 or 4 vodkas in it, guys kept dropping by our table with another double vodka for Lenny, it all ended up in this spare pint that no one but a complete fool would drink. So I thought well that’s a bargain from where I’m sitting! After a while I realised I was really badly seriously drunk, I had the notion I might projectile vomit over everyone at any moment, so it was about time I was leaving, so I had a couple more swigs for the road and told the guys I was going outside for some fresh air and that I may be some time.
I had to walk from the pub at Flitwick to the next village of Ampthill to catch the bus home, it was a couple of miles, so I staggered along the path there, you know when you look out the car window and you see some guy staggering about blind drunk and you go, ha, ha, look at that guy! Well, that guy was me! It was me!!
You have to stay really focussed when your in that situation, staying upright is the prime objective, moving in the right direction, not getting lost or run over are also priorities, but finally, I emerged from my bleary state actually at the bus stop. I was actually very surprised and pleased with myself to have made it without falling over, being arrested, or run over or anything, this was my link back to reality. I read the bus timetable and seeing as there was a pub there I decided to go into the pub and get warm while I waited.
So anyhow, I walked in, and every head turns, as they do in locals & you’re not one of them. So I stride up to the bar and order a coke, I know my limits, or I had done some hours earlier, ya know, before? So I get this coke, and take a sip, suddenly something inside ruptures, so I casually (but quite fast) go back outside and vomit copiously, and I’m thinking, ah, that’s got it! Now, where’s that coke gone? I needed a mouthwash – so I go back to the pub door, and they locked it! So I’m thinking, that’s odd, maybe it’s closing time already? So I try the other door, and that’s locked too! I could see through the windows they were all still inside, how strange! I guess they didn’t want some guy in the bar who was totally and utterly blotto drunk.
In the end, I just had to wait outside for the bus. When we all returned to work after Xmas there were a lot of stories about how everyone got well and truly plastered, those were good times! Good old days, pubs weren’t for family meals back then, if you went to a pub, you expect to get drunk! Well I did anyhow!
Second Story (unrelated)
As I sat on the small leather sofa outside her office, getting my papers in order for what would be a substantial meeting, I knew we had a lot of ground to cover. She was a respected professional, I had no qualms about going to her when I was overwhelmed, she was my favourite of all those at the institute, but I couldn’t hardly care any less about this world of work, in the back of my mind our secrets revealed the futility of our endeavours in this life.
She had talked about having an experience, I was unsure what she meant by that, but I liked the sound of it, I liked the sound of her voice, and the way she carried herself, I liked her clothes, her lips, her eyes, her long legs, her hair, her arms, her breasts, her shoes, I liked her coat, I liked her everything.
Her husband came out the office and said “are you next?” An uncontrollable smirk overcame my face as I said yes, I almost laughed out loud, he looked like a prick to me, he dressed flash, like Don Johnson in Miami Vice – I didn’t watch shit like that, I was coming from a much darker place, they both knew it, it was written all over me, I did not belong here, no one knew what the hell I was doing in this place, everyone thought I would fail massively, people kept their distance from me, but not these two, they seemed to have some sort of faith in the arts and artists. I wasn’t comfortable being there, I just blagged my way through life with no real purpose, there is no purpose, did you know?
She called me to come inside, her office was the best in the whole place, top floor, quite small, it was furnished more like a spare room, with all sorts of antique furnishings. The view over the hills was stunning, I remarked you could see the weather coming in from 10 miles, she warmed to my enthusiasm and said how she loved this place, I imagined this view was perhaps worth dying for, she impressed me, everything about her told me she was the best, and yet, somehow I knew she was seeking something more, or ought to be, with a mind like hers.
We got our boxes of papers out and set about ticking boxes, filling forms and so on. I looked at her intently, as she moved her pen down along the row of boxes, signing off at the foot of each page, I thought about kissing her where her knickers leave a mark on her inner thighs, following down over her legs, down too her feet, her ankles, slipping her shoes off, my mind drifting as the sun was going down behind her.
I reached out and put my hand on hers, and her pen stopped moving instantly. I leaned in and brushed my lips over hers, inhaling her breath, I passed by her cheek and gently kissed her ear, moving my fingers through her hair. She was putty in my hands, as I turned her face towards mine our eyes met. She flicked her eyes down and back up to mine, as if to say, okay, we’re going to do this.
I had both her hands in mine as we rose from our seats and began to kiss deeply, she was as passionate as I had imagined, the kissing and touching of hands on arms and shoulders as she came around the desk to meet me on my side of the desk was graceful and almost balletic. I passed my hands down over her hips as she bumped herself up onto the desk, I didn’t want to cramp her style and I stood back while I slipped out of my jeans and underwear. She shook out her hair and slipped her shoulders out of her dress, she was beautiful, in her prime I would say.
I brushed some delicate shift she wore from her shoulders, it fell from her easily, she was now naked from the waist up, I mumbled “your husband” as I moved in on her, and she said “don’t worry” as she began to stroke my tool which soon grew to some enormous size.
I approached her meekly, my respect for this woman was inestimable. She pulled me towards her, grasping across my back while she gripped my hips with her vice like thighs, we kissed some more before her hand reached my cock, guiding me inside of her. Apparently, she wasn’t wearing knickers after all.
She put her hands behind her on the desk for support, throwing her head back and rocking gently on my shaft, it seemed this was the way in which she intended to consume me.
We met once more, a night of feasting, drinking and passion, a tiny room above a pub out in the sticks, honestly it was heavenly, she was a fast lady, from what I could tell, her husband was some kind of afterthought in her scheme, I suspect there are many others like her, I just wish on my star that I may find them out.
I’m so hacked off with everything this week – just seems to be too much of this crap going around. I’d like to say that Donald Trump is a gob-shite and a moron, and I’m sure that is correct, but in the end, it doesn’t resolve the fact that he exists and lots of people support him.
So whats causing all this? Did you know that Giuliani twit said “Lets have trial by combat” right before the riot at Washington?
Well it chimes with me, because look at the way we all live, we got this virus going around the world, if they had just nipped it in the bud early, it would have saved millions of lives and billions of dollars / pounds / euros or whatever, but no, we have to protect the blessed economy first, so we do that, and now its cost hundred’s of times what it would have done if we hadn’t been so damn stupid! We must preserve our competitive nature, or else there would be no freedom, no progress, no this that and the other, so instead, we’re going to live like we’re all in jail, hiding from each other – and it won’t be over any time soon – I heard this week that even with the vaccine, this situation will go on and on – millions will still become seriously ill and die, because the vaccine is not the real solution to the problem – only lock downs, track and trace etc can do that. They focused all on the vaccine and allowed it to run through, as if he solution is coming, when they knew all along it wasn’t going to be the real solution – They knew that but they didn’t (and still don’t) want to face it, its too opposed to their economic mindsets.
No wonder people voted for Trump, they thought he was different, in fact he was just 10 times worse, or more! Bordering on insane!
The ultimate purest form of capitalism would be “Trial by combat” and that was what Giuliani was saying, lets all slay each other till the last man standing! Hoorah!
Monday was the most depressing day of the year, its called Blue Monday, cos most people get the most depression on that day, its because its the darkest day I think someone said there is only about 8 mins of daylight, and everything is crap.
Its good to have a talent, if you only have a skill, that means you just know how to do something, you can’t develop it into anything more, because its already what it is, whereas with a talent, its more like a seed, you want to nurture that properly. If all you got is a seed, and someone teaches you to think of it as a skill, they mess it up for you. That might have grown into something incredible and beautiful, but they messed that up for you instead, the idiots!
So anyhow, its so depressing, cos I woke up this morning, and I thought how old am I? 57? That can’t be right, cos thats almost 60, so I must be 47, and that can’t be right, I must be younger than that – I know I’m not 22, those were good times! Fuck yeah, being 22, well you got the world a your feet baby, who’s going to stop me? No one – thats who!
So if I’m 57, isn’t it about time I did something amazing with my talent? Like invent a new kind of gun, that shoots flowers & petals! Everyone would love it – everyone would buy my gun, or make their own, for free! I’d be a hero! Everyone would have these flower guns, and they’d all be saying, oh yeah, he invented the flower gun, and peace and love ruled the world instead of morons and idiots!
When you had far too many mushrooms, and its past 2 or 3am, and you are alone, in your room, looking out the windows, time slows down, to a final standstill. There’s a sense of impending doom and it is growing, you become obsessed with it, now it hangs over you like a great weight. Indeed, the only sense you now have is doom – you have seen your ending, you know you cannot avoid it, this time it’s final, this night will last forever. Daylight for others may return, but you will hide from it. You no longer belong in the land of the living. You outstayed your welcome there, for you, it is over.
Welcome! – Welcome to the land of the dead! – we are with you, as you are with us, be not afraid, soon you shall join us forever!
The boy had been throwing stones at the upper windows of the derelict building, smashing them one by one. All the lower ones had already been destroyed perhaps by older boys, or else he himself had done this during the holidays, he could not remember one day from the next, and just continued on this path of destruction until he saw the ghastly phantom for the first time. It stared back at him. As the flying stone passed through the space occupied by the figure’s gaping mouth. It rattled noisily across the floor inside. He was curious, and decided to get a closer look – climbing the ivy he scrambled inside the empty shell of a building, taking in the broken empty bottles and the smell of urine – he would make a new friend that day, one that he would soon forget, and yet the spirit would accompany him for the remainder of his life – perhaps joined by many others, mostly malevolent.
In the front room, Marmaduke sat by the window carefully pressing out the air bubbles towards the edge of the marquetry he was working on, it was difficult, he was having trouble matching the delicacy he had been shown by his friend Theodore. Later he would sand the layers flat before applying the varnish, but how could this happen when the whole thing was so dreadfully uneven? That was when he noticed a half pea sized piece of Moroccan cannabis resin trapped under the cling film, what a delight he thought, and released it carefully with his sharp blade.
Lord Faversham was a ludicrous figure in his hunting slacks and boots, with his red tunic open to the waist, his stomach bulging out expansively. He looked incredibly foolish. His ceremonial sash hung about his hips, but he was after all, lord of the manor and could do whatever he pleased. He furiously wound the handle of the telephonic instrument and demanded to know why he was alone? Soon Clara, one of the pretty girls from the kitchen arrived, Faversham eyed her amorously as he disrobed, the pair of them were soon tucked up in bed together. She didn’t object to the way his lordship behaved, the old fool was quite mad, but harmless enough.
Later that day Faversham released the girl to the garden, he fancied she’d enjoy it better than the kitchen. She chose to walk to the railway lines, where she stood at the side of the tracks as if waiting for a train. It was peculiar, because trains don’t stop there. Meanwhile the boy was returning from a day of wreaking holiday havoc. He watched the lady from the bridge nearby. Suddenly and without warning, she exploded, with a sudden flash of fire and a rising puff of smoke which quickly blew away. The light sparkled and glistened as a dozen or so tiny doves appeared in her place and dispersed. The boy blinked and set off for home, wondering what would be for tea.
Lady Faversham wondered what had happened to the biscuits? The servants had been stealing again she supposed.
Happy New Year everyone! Hope you enjoyed my dream 🙂