Life Takes You Where It Goes

Podgy, Roker/ (The) Podgy Roker/ 'Podgy' (from) Roker/ (Mr.) Podgy Roker esq/ (I live in) Podgy, Roker

2007-09-06T09:31:00.000-07:00

On the way to Leuchars I lost another Mackaye beanie. I must have lost hundreds o' them ower the years. Somehow it appears to be the only piece of identity fun my preventative valve will permit. Deek denied that he used to wear a patterned skullcap affair in the late 80's. I tell everybody I'm going to get a tattoo. It'll say "I am the crease in the shirt this world wears". It's great to be an everyman. Not for me thae dark glesses or patterned wellies which you a' love. T-shirts that say "I like sex". 'Crappy' £50 bags wi' Gola on them. How nicely the strap fits diagonally ower yer lithe shodders. Newsprint hoodies. Think aboot it. These things are what get you on in life. Pushing the misfit to the edge of the dancefloor. Snogging in his face. Early '92. Escaping mother to go and see Belly. Dressed in a dockyard jacket. The world carries on. Undergrads. They all eat rice and pulses then go to 'pull' in the Beer Bar. It's just like Jackie O's but with facillities and fringes. Sleep on Kai's floor. Really. The longer I live the more I just ken it to be true eg see that Michael Branagh? I really loved his Motorhead tee. In a bedsit somewhere there is a large man. He wrestles with the fact that he 'just cannot find a way into life'. He gives you abstract missives which aren't choked through choice. He can't settle on it. What is the point? Where is the context for a 'lonely' person? Even worse, one who has the look of a beast? who is 'heavy'? who is good in short doses? who writes manipulative pieces on the interweb to draw in sympathetic replies? who has Barry Bulsara status? The options have been exhausted. 1988. Wander around the bus station in a cowboy hat and a long coat which didn't even come from Ultarian. You see, they can buy an identity and change it if it doesn't work. I can't afford that. No contribution. No aroma of Gena Rowlands. Am searching for the means to an end. The fucking liberty taking. My one consolation is found in empty melodrama. Contribution. Obsessed with dogma. 30 stone partially sighted procedural fanatic in Karaoke based DSSS scrounging fest. The legendary Meek is now dead. He 'did' many windows 'on the side'. His accomplice looks after lushes with one leg now. He's on a back to work programme. Booze and fags. Trifectas. Lists are easy. Beaucoups of blues. I attended the inaugural Festival of Drifting. It's still going. The sound of impossibility is the sound of you playing wi yersel, trying to make the noises so it feels like an intimate experience. I am lost and I want it that way. It must be my choice. Asserting one's rights. 'They' all assert their perogatives to be 'shaggers'. I've got knackered furniture items . That's all I need. I'm in T-Hall ya bass. T-Hall tokers are finding the way and staking a claim on life. They have lasted the test of time. They are way more legitimate. Enter The Dragon- The Directors Cut. The proto barmy army shouted "Devon's back". I winced in the saggy old. I never 'shot my muck' until I was 24. The sex Olympics went on nearby. I didn't think it worked. Pages 12 and 13. The sex Olympics around you. "Put it in yer mooth Denise/ "Show us Yer Blert". Leave it to chance that the Kathy Burke family at 134 cannae see me in action. Going at it from a certain angle. There is a type of interaction that you all know how to do. It's instinctive in you. It is the currency of life. That's what you need to meet thae rules of attraction. Can you find a way into the vernacular? Either a "oh yes, the Bwillo?" or a "I'll goose ye, ya cunt". The type you need to get on. When there is nobody and you try to write about it, to 'let it out' of your heid and your hand, turn into popular song so it makes sense to 'you, the living'. How can it ever compare? What interest is a person's despair and 'genuinely crippling' loneliness to another? It can only come across as 2nd hand peeing unless you take a stand . It can never look good. Don't have it. Unhappiness is uncontrollable. Hyperbole in the words. Gives you away. Shows off nothing but limitation. You are not Bradshaw. You gave Need New Body at least 10 minutes to weave their spell. You didn't instinctively realise they had no credentials and ditch them for what they surely were. 'You' all sussed it out. To a man you look like Jeremy Sisto. Where am I? The free 10 minutes are up.

He Loved This Place- GiesThe Xmas Club Money You Tanger

2007-06-11T11:52:00.000-07:00

Tragic Mulatto were a bunch of hardcore stalwarts. Last night I pissed in a sink for the first time since the days o' Panthers. The scene. Where you meet people. Where you go through rites o' passage. Fancy dress night. Where I was introduced to certain patterns. Where it first dawned on me the course o' life. Aye. Letchworth. Lissome shopgirls wearin' tight feted underwear outline. Grubby. Strainin' withoot ever trying. I am too far down the line . For a person to write they must have a feeling that they deserve to be listened to. The fat man does not possess that sense o' value. The hefty ones have nothing to declare them free of comedic roles. How can they be members of the race? "The only way I do it is meet somebody in a pub and then shag them". I will just hang around and lurk and aggrevate and piss on their many flowery parades wi'a' the DJ culture that goes wi' them while they invade ma space at the edge o' Fife dance flairs. Rocking and rolling. I was in a screamo band. The care sector. Stuff's no worth editing. The conversational that marks ye as mediocre. I am the new Phillip 'Phil' Differ. Soon the Record will disown another former hero. Wee Burnie is now a dead beast. He was once the wee mite who made ye glad to get 'poleaxed' on our Bucky and claim a free pie. I cannae express desire. I'm not legitimate. CC Bill $14.95 for 30 days. Unexpurgated access to all the guilt and mental illness you will ever need. "Our Boobies are all yours". Not the sole cause. Ended up on a night oot wi' masel indoors. Ma ain factors. Where is the love? Where is acceptance of soundtracks and ballads? Why can I not do a degree? Simply because I was not raised to do so. Apologies to all the advice. How are you going to afford that? He's daein' that. We're paying for him. I like looking at gappers. Boozy Best is deid. I cannae extract the poison frae the 'Tour de Poitrine' I wore on the first day in 1983. Looking back on yer life. The moment it ended. You really did have nothing of interest. That is not glib. A collection of statements to let you in on exactly the way he felt at 11.37 PM. In this place- one room and a place to sit which doubles as a bed when I get too worn out by having inspiration check oot. I may have to resort to the conversational to get the point across. Spent the day without any retrieval frae hours of trying to out think yous. I haven't any credentials. Music is all competition. How aware are ye of thae 'Nuggets' collections? I prefer Orbital. Lighting thae fires in the mid 90's. Get some vibes on. Get the martial arts on the go. 'Bottom' comedy still blows yer mind. Even ganja obsessives can be patter merchants. Drifting through life wi' awbody loving ye. Married in country hooses near Balingry. I'm no wearing any keks. She loves the fact I wear a tee wi' Superman on it. Fellowships. People around ye. I tell ye that I need that but I also can't stand the reality of being present within it. A' day. 10 slices. Millbona Gouda. A slice every 5 minutes passes yer day. Mother says "we a' need a bit o' comfort". Playing away frae hame. A mother o' 5. Yer brother has a bigger willy than you. "I've met people with your condition who enjoy a perfectly normal life". Congenial person. Give us a few pounds pal. That's a' I am. There was a time. Late December. Like in that song that naebody kens and I can get away wi' mentioning. Watery sunshine ower the hair. It was like nothing I'd seen and nothing I could ever have. I lent ye money so you'd talk for while. I want into the ways of it. You all know it. Here's a vacant one-defined by haein' nae cash or nae attraction. I go and visit graves these days. They make me feel like I should be crying. No because of who they are, mair because I cannae act in the manner of the class who measure the quality o' yer stane. The only reason I still am is 'cause o' how stupid I am. It's a' doon to how I cannae grasp thae plungin' extremeties o' the real direness due to my lack. I should add a given that I only speak this way cause I once read skaggy books. I only think this way cause I once shat on a Xmas step. Others have to teach me and show me the path. I have a bearing which needs to be educated. I can only ever operate in the 'confessional' genre. Others have to say it for me. I mean I ken it's no Fitz O' Depression. It's mair like Neil Hamburger. See? "I don't believe in the power of love. I don't believe in the wisdom of stone. I don't believe in a god or the mind" But I am alone.

I've Been Everywhere

2007-06-10T15:36:00.000-07:00

On the day I heard 'Pig Champion' was deid, I wondered what it would be like to be 'of normal body'. Acceptable. The Fuckeridge is now open. Sunday nights. We're not working tomorrow- we're in The Beer Bar. Truly inevitable. None of your "hen, I currently weigh 17 stone, my penis is minute, thick as a brick, is that it?, I am unlikely to ever be truly honest with you, I really am no fun, dinnae expect any La Senza, ken?". The 'piggay bastards' are called. A man with alopecia and Blue Murder albums once cornered me outside Romano's Fish and Chicken Bar with his tales of Bounty Bars in the 80's. Another one asked me if I would like to read his 'Caravan and Trailer Monthly' and couldnae believe he had so many biscuits in his pockets. Spinal fusion. "He was 'simple', ken? No the full shiling, well, maybe 5p". At the same time, I was at 'the Porte'. A fucked blue metal shelter. "Will you get fixed with me?" There is no consolation in being the real deal when you're talking about 'status grading' amongst social misfits. England's Talisman and his heartbreaking tribute to awbody's heroes...I almost got a bit ornery/on the day David Bairstow died/ on the day 'old' Mick Shanley pished himsel in the Auld Hoose for the 47th time/on the day Robert 'Bob' Heggarty 'Haggerty' drank himsel to death...while running a charity race in drag. It's more than enough 'Kenny', you're wrong. Stop writing shite wi' 'Jonny'. He's nowt but a 'gapper'. Trying to escape, scarin' masel walking past 'Hey Kitty' and then witnessing thae lives wi' their 'ease of movement'. Choking sensations. Secure units. Survival kit. I don't know it. Bulging gut. This shape. She told me a story of how they would wake up mornings and crack open the grogs. Her wi' the Autumn colours, the orange jersey and the Ali MacGraw thing wi' the purple cords, she lost 'that' hat while pissed at the do. "You got any idea where it went?". Aye, it got dropped and kicked away by one o the Jackies and Shonas in the trooser suits and the Slosh. 'She' went hame wi' 'him'. I walked to the Dersim Kebab. I want to register myself as a man. I'm part of the human race. You really will accept me now. Can I marry you? That's not a reference to comedy. Skint and aflame but only wi' wasted ire. 5 miles. She phoned later. I was standing next to a car which was booming out Jaco Pastorius. I'm now aiming for Lemn Sissay. "Are you ok?" "No". "Aye, I'm fine. I'm ok wi' it. Everything's grand." What is the point of a low key death? On yer ain. Melodrama. Taking the power back. Throw a dog aff the bridge. I hate the way folk frae the weege say hawf. It truly is the most contrived thing I've ever heard. This is ma epitaph. He couldnae get wi' it. Where is the consolation? It's nowhere. TV and all there is for ye-Aqua Peem Charlie Hungerford. Cult followings age me years at a time. Posters of Meatwad. However many layers you have to break through. The Howling Castle (I mean come on, for fuck's sake) is as overrated as the Mogger bastards. The new 'Sport Billy'. You have to go with it tho'. The Cheeks and Cool Keiths of the world say it. They're making history. They now soundtrack tributes to Clive Lloyd. I cannae handle it. Where is she now? Scuffed. Incomplete. Control control control. Material from the epoch. A free gonk. Peter York. Peter Tork. Resort to material like 'Tork's cheesy organ dominates throughout'. Large man with pint in hand drooling over fanciables. Retreats to his Uriah Heap. I was carding it 'til I went bankrupt. We're worried about your debt. You've impounded my cooking materials, my Wisdens, comestibles. Sold everything else to Cash Converters. Needed to buy 6 pack of Frusli's. I'm the one who's guilty. On the Day I heard 'Pig Champion' was deid, I sold them 'Naked' on DVD for 50p, I ate 2 lunches, I heard 'she' wanted to see me, my claes dinnae fit, I have to quote this in full- "I could eat a chocolate bar and that would be all right/ but then my waist band would get too tight". My life is over.

Peem's Deid?

2007-05-18T14:09:00.000-07:00

"Aye, one night I caught that fuckin' Peem along the brig wi' a load-y thae bricks, ken thae moneyblock things?", so qouth ma faither. Excerpts frae ma ain 'a voyage roond ma faither' withoot the cameos by a' thae Marcel Ber-lain-a likes. How do you pronounce that? ie the nimm o' the hoary old 'it's a saucy life 'at the bar' guy frae the Guard-jinn? Is it a positively Rabelasian Gallic affair or just another Bernie Tawp-inn glaring disappointment? This is ma search for a life revolving round hundreds of screenings per year of 'Rififi' and maybe the odd one or 2 of 'Zazou Pitts DANS LA METRO' or whatever it's called. A re-evaluation of 'Beaucoups of Blues' has set the tone to it all. I love it. Failures. Have a wank. No card facilities. Big boob hotline. It's behaviour I get away with cause I'm part of the underclass. It's a club of one. There are nae bass playing Jeremy's here. What can I cling to? Noodles and beans. Jaffa Cakes for 75p. References to topics which are way way way beyond rubbed into the ground yet I treat them like I think I'm giving you the low down only from this room with the sounds of the new Black Lace playing loud and clear withoot a stereo. This is one o' his PEETREE DISH EXPEARIMINTS which garnered a' that acclaim. Gerry Hastie had one o' their stickers on his. No it wasnae them at all. I'm supposed to revel in my ordinariness and my inability to forge. I'm dying to use the phrase "And what about the time they called me Mackie?" Adulthood in Ravelston Dykes. Where is it gone and when did Dyke have his teeth done? Affected by the last acts of christian charity. This is my style. What else can there be when you're right here at one wi' yersel? The end of my life. A time for reflection. Picasso's nephew adds grandeur to it. I never liked William Gaunt. Not with a penis like mine. I've been on ma ain. Wearing a spunky housecoat. Fresh new sluts. 4 bowls of muesli. Put on 2 stone. I'm now writing like The Pictish Trail. They would still have hated him at The Ollerton. 'The Cas' is no more. Another thing I want to drop in is that ' I want those in the know to know that I've felt pain in little stabs across the years' even if it's sullied by recourse to a band. A mainstream piece of Jupitus. It seems like there's no meaning to it at all. 'A bad person' not worthy of reassessment. You do move on stage you know? You're a good dancer. Overseas disappearance. No chance. Focus. Absolute. Here's the end. Ginger girl, she called herself 'a boozer' one night, I was only 21 stone at the time. She took me back to her abode and attempted to cook student food while almost completely inebriate. This is the truth- her flatmate worked in construction. "It's not something to which I am suited. To what do you think you are suited? Getting out of here" I did get out of there, down the stairs of the stone built, past awbody's bikes. I went hame. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be back in the land of 'mess-up and get away with it'. More and more booze. I drank 2 bottles of wine and thought about how others can get away with pretending to be 21 and I couldnae. She was a boozer.

....shadows of the afternoon...or..radgie/gadgie...

2006-12-04T13:21:00.000-08:00

kedgeree...mother made that for us once, well she called it kedgeree. Don't think it was fishy in the bona fide (and Klepto) sense. She only liked 'that yellow fish' anyway. It was more of a rice and ooze mass like what 'one' might hear discussed in an 'authentic Scots tongue' version o' Abigail's Party, complete wi' the shitest available gimmick ie that o' having Beverly played by a man, and no ordinary man either, probably one from the highly employable stable o' Naked Video extras and acquaintances o' that funny wee gray haired bank manager guy frae the theatre company who make all thae stories 'for the people' complete with SINGING and much obsequious behaviour in the direction of Dorothy Paul. I 'didnae like it'. I told her so. She told me that I 'couldnae pick and choose'. My mother being my mother, this meant that I clearly had displayed ideas and behaviour way above my station. Next I would be saying 'aye' and 'ken' to people from the church or to my brother's wine-obsessed in-laws. We were 'po' Fife folk' and we had to behave like it godamnmit...anyway, that's what appears to be on ma mind RIGHT NOW (???) maybe,maybe. A' the pretension that flows through ma heid. I have to communicate with ye. I have to give ye the essense of ma soul. I have to confess ma innermost to you. I want you to flock to ma side, to ma aid, to turn me around. At the same time, I can hear some of you lying back with your other halfs and yer 'nice bottles of wine' and goin' Aye, it's no quite The Double Leopards or David Foster Wallace or those little bastards The Moggers or The Rebel live at The Scottish Hobo Society or another night at 'Fast' or another night o' fuckin' wi' Alice or a trip to Hanging Rock (THE ACTUAL LOCATION) or even a life in Bearsden...well I'm no claimin' that it ever could be but something inside me feels bereft cause I'm no the equivalent o' a' thae experiences for yous all..look I'll make it more palatable...my name is Hamish...I am 19...I am a glaciology student...I have a big cock...I like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and The Kooks...I read anything that 'Amy' leaves in the bathroom of our lovenest...I'm in the middle of a gapper in Burundi...I'm struggling to make the time to get back for the family Xmas in Cirencester...I am a debenture holder with 'Howies'...I had sex with a girlfriend of one of the Guillemots but I will never tell anyone about it...I intend to live a little but within the bonds of an ethical model..... sorry I feel exasperated. I'm postin' this because I want to go back to tellin ye aboot masel. I've tried 'writing stuff' since the last time I bothered ye but I've struggled to find the correct level of organisation within ma heid to do that. I'm trying to make this a wee preamble to encourage masel to do it again. I think all of ye's ken aboot the old blog. I'll be honest wi ye and say that it died because I decided not to talk about 'her' (no explanation as yet). Man, I have to talk about 'her'. I want to find a way to do it in a meaningful and non crappy way. I'll be lookin to do that if I feel like it wioot being an erse. I got freaked by some praise of ma posts too. Beautiful as it was to hear that, I just could not believe somebody could appreciate stuff I wrote. Not sure I can now...and that's not frae the pov of me being a COMPLEX DIFFICULT WONDERFUL FLAWED HUMAN BEING DRIPPING WI UNDERSTANDING AND INSIGHT..it's just that I cannae balance what I see when I look in the mirror or react to the way I believe I'm perceived and match that wi' a person who is worthy o' summat....I'm afraid that's the truth o' what goes on in ma heid...I struggled to react to criticism of stuff I wrote too..it surprised me that I reacted in that way, it really did. I think folk thought I was mean and anti-social and hated a' people..well part of that might be true...when I write I try to catch what's goin on in ma heid and while I hopefully take responsibility for things I say, primarily I'm turnin the spotlight on masel and trying to catch some o' the inner crap I feel (BOGUS..sorry for pre-emptin'...) as it happens...I don't think I hate people...I know that on a day to day basis I build up a sense that the worlds of youth, fashion,virillity, love and meaning are out to get me and that I will never become a member of their clubs or that those members will never accept me as capable of understanding how they go about their 'thing'...as for couples...well I am intimidated by being around pairs o' folk who appear to have 'arrived' or who can give off the illusion of being content, at one etc...I've never felt that way (mair BOGUS) and I dislike having advancement and 'normal life' staring me in the face. I'm sorry Jim but for the most part I don't feel like I've joined the human race and seeing an integral part of the way 'Modern life' operates is difficult for me (pfffffttt.. 'I was only 22/it was very hard for me....'). Seeing the shack jobs of Gorgie/Dalry in front o' the Riesling at the local Somerfield is an oddly withering experience...a' thae confidences and togetherness and SHARED EXPERIENCE...they sense someone who doesn't share their ways, they fear that they too could be a singleton wi' a permanant pizza box to hand...man, this society values the couple...if yer fanciable, you've arrived...if yer no, then you're most likely a 'beast' or even worse 'a lonely man' or 'a sad man'...I obviously am a 'lonely man' and that's hard, as loneliness is THE WORST (I'm not at all self conscious re saying that) but I wish I didnae have internal insanity goin on which makes me think that sexually active members of the bourgeoisie are 'after me' because I sit in front o' them at the pictures or I just cannae 'understand'...so something makes me feel that I need to 'sing the troubled beast' again...I don't 'understand', I don't know if you do either...I might have a tenuous grip....I might be a 'bammer'...I might " 'pu' ma pud cause it is so good'" just like Doc Cox...I might interrupt yer appreciation o' 'Gorky's' but hey...you know...I'll unload 'it' somewhere into/unto the ether and it'll maybe help for 5 mins...thanks for coming...ha ha... look just had a change o' heart. Was going to make this permission only on a new blog but I cannae be botherered messin aboot wi' email addresses the now so it's going back on the old blog for now!. I'll rectify this soon and edit accordingly..oops...

This is the story of your life..play Captain Fantastic at least for tonght

2006-08-14T16:56:00.000-07:00

Saturday...So aye, you know man I felt quite buzzy after posting for the first time in 'about 10 year'. I finished it off in the s/h and then went straight to catch the train through to Fife for faither's bash. Well kinda straight away...after having some kinda unpleasant shit re what claes to wear and a' that....Jeez, on reading it back the sheer pissy normality of that statement has just sickened me. How could I write that??? I mean it's a true account o' what went down at that time but I feel instead like I just expressed a similar thought to what somebody 'dippit' in the media like Edith Bowman pour example might have done from time to time. The fact I got her nimm in there has given me immense pleasure. Seriously tho' I just can't hide the type o' person I am. I'm nae great thinker (!) and that is made all too clear when I let masel go and just 'write'. Domestic stuff or 'little concerns' are what flow if anything does. Nane o' that knowledge available only to Julian Barnes is evident. To be honest I would rather have some of the knowledge known only to 'Tam' Barnes, a famous small town bigot and piss heed from back hame (the guy's nimm always confused me. I think it may have actually been 'Barn' or 'Barron' but the Fife vernacular did it nae favours and the local normalisation method with odd sounding names not a mile removed from popular ones came into effect eg Andrew Matthew became Andy 'Matthews' or 'the coalman') Ma best memory of Tam was being 'stuck' on a late night bus coming back frae Edin one night. The concept of the night bus is still revolutionary in these areas of such full-scale 'slackness in the blackness'. It was plodding through Burntisland aka 'drug/ganja island', the nearest toon tae Kinghorn where ma folks and Tam stay. I saw him oot the windae. He was absolutely blootered and kinda clumping sideways along the High Street. He saw ma bus going past, simply couldnae believe it and swooned round in the most laboured and debilitated way I've ever seen while at the same time producing quite a spectacular swift and sudden sensation of a huge mass lurching and turning tide. It spoke of disbelief, indignation, bewilderment, dismay that public transport could run though HERE at such an hour of inebriation and he had missed it...shit...it was one of the purest pieces of expression I've ever seen...beautiful in it's way... but anyway, there are times I reckonI will only feel personally complete and accepted if I can write ANYTHING that is worthy of a bogus piece of Peregrine 'Peri' Worsthorne or Beatrix/Beatrice/Beatitude Campbell (is that her nimm??..short haired, northern, farcically intellectual academic...) critical analysis. The fact that I simply cannae do that leads to some great frustration...no really... I have to accept I can only function on a certain level. I just wish I could stop wanting to be 'serious' and to 'really show you' and then getting annoyed when the way I talk and think in reality sneaks in. I thought for a long time yesterday re the malaise of levity which gets in there. What I want is nothing more than to give you many tales from the inner recesses (!!!!!) and yet next before I know it it'll be aw jaunty catch phrases and T In The Park reviews mixed wi' pages and pages of me arranging to meet ma wide network of like minded friends for legendary events and evenings of barmy activity. I struggle wi' this pish man. Ma head does not stop telling me I'm a bullshit artist. I have to 'deal'. Look folks, this is a serious request. How does 'one' come to terms wi' thersel? How do you find a way of doing? A way to get by? For the most part, thae stark warnings o' a Peter Bradshaw world pervade ma thoughts and I just don't have a clue. Answers on a postcard...well...comment would be pretty guid...maybe I could start the catchphrases and say I would 'love you long time' (AAAARGH) if you gave me a comment...catch my drift?...student bands who are sufficiently guileless/stupid/pretty enough to call themselves 'Charlie Don't Surf' and get away with it...schemie DJ's who bill themselves as 'Lazarou'...pissed badger-haired fanny's strutting/wobbling round Fountainbridge in white shirts wi' 'Bickle' on the back...anyone who dishes out ganja related humour of any kind...so many folk love a' this shit...in fact 'the opposite sex' (the most sweeping generalisation in the world comes to you with a healthy dose o' casual misogyny) seem to be particularly fond of it (!!!!!)...the thought o' this makes me ill...I know if I gave in and did something crap and obvious and shite then at least one chapter of both the Le Tigre fancy dress society and the Bonnie Greer life code olympians would kill me for a lack of flair and of course UNDERSTANDING...help...I endeavoured to put this madness to one side for as long as I could. I focussed on the other part o' ma heid. It was zoned into the simply wondrous and pure melody that is 'Major Cities' by The Headphones. There were times when I wish I was David Bazan. That is not the type o' 'ting I will say about folk but...'all empires eventually expire and when they finally do it's never pretty, so just sit back and wait for the attacks, especially in the major cities. Please hold my hand, sweetheart. Daddy's got you. Mama's out in the car and she packed your favourite blue shoes. Here they come, exploding like the sun, ringing in my ears like independence. I agree this doesn't favour me, still, bullies are to get what's coming' This did provide a bit o' succour. One thing came to mind tho' while I was walking. I saw the quirky Scottish character actor of stage and screen 'Molly' Innes yesterday. I can safely use (almost) real nimms here cause she's a celebrity. We were at school the gither. I had my version of a huge crush on her. She was bright, feisty, quirky in the bestest way ie she had her ain ways o' daein' things and had the intelligence and the 'way about her' to do them just like that. She looked 'unconventional'. I've always loved that big time. I once heard her described as having a look akin to having been run over by a truck. I'm afraid if you asked me to enter the world of Russell Brand and Jeremy Kyle and probed me on what 'I liked' then 'M'I kinda started things off...see earlier posts re my worries over 'sexism'...I love reddy browny gingery hair, I love petite but not skinny idiosyncratic girls who look as if they might just have 'lived' and who have loads to say re unimportant, 'weird' things, who are imperfect, who do not get excited by Peter Andre etc...to make masel feel mair precarious I'll tell you aboot the thrill I got from seeing Aussie comic Sarah Kendall last week. Her act sounded like it was written by the team behind 'My Family' but man she had lovely voluminous lustrous gingery hair. It was quite something. ..moving back to 'M'I before the police come to the s/h...she also seemed so distinct frae her 'neebors' ...this heightened my liking for her indubitably. Her pals were the most fearsome group of girls I'd ever come across..please bear in mind I was 12-17 at the time...To an individual they were haughty, aloof, venemous when approached with anything, angrily self contained, sneery, in the 2nd year pupil vernacular of the time they thought they were 'hot shit' and basically set the bench mark for a 'type' (I'm sorry) of behaviour I dinnae like...they were GLACIAL. To make it mair basic you felt like they were taking the piss out of you amongst themselves at ALL TIMES. I'd never seen a group of boys or girls display anything like this kind of containment and power up to that date. They didn't give a fuck for talking to mere mortals. They were in control and would have none of it. They were great at sniggering and smirking. As a silly inward youth (and probably as an even more stupid 35 year old wi' a' ma ideas shaped indelibly in thae horrible teen days) they scared the shit out of me. It went on for some time. One of ma pals once asked one o' 'them' out. She said she was washing her hair! As an overweight blubbery/blubby boy with no set image or standing I was on the chopping block. I can mind a shitload o' sarcasm. None of which made me feel any guid. Tho' I can remember being even more of an asshole than I am now. I responded in funny shouty/sulky ways to situ's like this. That just made them laugh louder and in a more arch manner. What freaked me out was that these folk weren't aggressive, daft, popular people at all, they were slightly on the fringes, a bit 'alternative', bright , clever. I hated the jock types and I felt I should be on the same side as 'M'I's group. They had other ideas. I know the thought police are gathering re the grouping together of females under the same description. Well I do that deliberately cause that's just what it seemed like at the time..and..cause I don't know where this is going! They were always together. Aye they all had individual traits but you didn't see them on their own often enough to differentiate! At the time I thought I was being grown up in my thoughts about them and I felt seeing what I thought was 'power' and 'strength' gave me an insight into what I reckoned 'female behaviour' was all about!! Of course now I know that arseholes are arseholes regardless of gender. I'd better tell you that I've edited this bit so much for stuff that might be considered 'sexist' that it probably doesn't make it any sense. Look I've ever read any Michel Houellebecq tomes if that eases things a bit. Why am I going on about this? I'm no sure. They were the first folk I thought of when I saw her. I found that disappointing. I wanted to show you where the 'persona' started I suppose. One of the first times I couldnae deal wi' things I didnae dig. Please refer to the previous post. In thae days I was intimidated by the idea of (as a former client of mine used to call my female colleagues) 'a female woman' and what that might be. I only saw mysteries I thought I could never fathom. I didnnae like feeling that way. I didn't know what to make of my thoughts in this area then and I still don't. I'll let you read into it if you can be Will-Geered. I bet you her pals would still be sneering at me if they met me. A wee while ago I did see that one of them was working in a cheese shop. That was some strange consolation, I guess...look..anyway...seeing 'Molly' was weird. I tried to get the glacial ones oot ma mind. I thought about just her. It didnae work entirely. I knew that she was brighter than 'them' and that she tended no to need to display it. I loved that. I thought she was approachable back then away frae 'them' and I knew that I'd never made a real effort to approach her. I never told her at all what I felt about her. That still felt incomplete yet par for the course. She probably knew...maybe. Maybe I didnae know who she was at all?? Me being me, the fact she was wi' her man when I saw her made me dwell on ma inner recesses for a wee while in a kneejerk motion. On this occasion, I soon got over it. Most folk would have thunk o' what might have been at this point but I kent masel better than that...aye the confidence o' geeks...another glorious contradiction. I saw this guy on the train ower to Fife. He was a real Toby Radloff but hide hissel under a bushel and a Gregory Peck?...heaven forfend...a very lost American family sat next to him. He was into top gear right away...he sensed they needed knowledge of the local public transportation system. He was the right guy. He pounced. He had the bearing and demeanour of a reptilian speeshiss from Pluto but he kent many things that might be handy in the event of a breakdown on the M74 e near Flitwick (I love the way that it appears to be pronounced Flit-ick and not Flit-wick...see also the time I heard a platform announcement at Brighton station requesting staff attend to a spillage (pronounced in the French style- spill-ajjjhhh- soft and langourous unlike the rough and ready spulliddgge o' ma Fife ken) on platform 7) and he reeled in the years in the verbal style learnt from his winning upbringing at Fettes in the days before he realised he was mair Housego than 'horny horny horny'. This boy was no wallflower. Aye admittedly he had nae social awareness. He was supplying the advice and you'd better listen...but he had balls 'bigger than Hamley's' and ground on and on. The family looked uneasy. Maybe where they came from social misfits were painfully awkward and shy. Surely they weren't supposed to seem like they had just brought down Barings Bank. I sat there thinking about how I would love to have this guys lack of self awareness. He did not thnk of how he came across. He answered the 'movement in his brain' and it sent him out onto the train with his factfinders and copy of the latest newsletter from Alumni relations. He could bore whole families into submission and never know it. I wanted to be him! Maybe...like most things (!!)...it's a class vibe...working class geeks are downtrodden, there is no doubt about it...when you look 'nordie' and have nae cash then you have to use the same corner shops and breathe the same air as thuggery itself. If you live in T-Hall and look like that guy frae Citizen Smith who always played characters called Ken then you're no going to get very far before you get a 'doin' if you don't keep your head down and deny the fact you know all about scale models of The Prawn Marie Rose...but if you're armed wi' a' that Youth Jazz Orchestra bolstering, live in Boglily Road (THE affluent street in Kirkcaldy) and are well acquainted with what a 'Notary' is then you have the spirit to grow and flourish. Who cares if you talk to human beings the same way you would talk to a llama as long as you have free reign to venture forth on yer knowledge o' types of church organs. The fact you attended 'Millfield' ensures you will always live in parts of the world where you'll meet like minded scallywags. You're fine, you lifeboat-obsessed David Starkey sound-alike you. It's even easy for geeks....UNDER CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES...background= blissful unawareness...discuss...I digress..back to Sat...I ended up in Kdy and met KB + missus. It was great to catch up. Not spoken to KB for a while. I had missed him as ever. Conversation was great. The old town wasnae looking quite so rosy. It dawned on me that most things had shut down since I left. Even the bus station rebuilding has stalled through 'financial difficulties'. If the town was ever properly alive it's a bit on the moribund side right now. The characters going about in the High Street didn't lift the vibe. I got a sense they didn't care about things closing. Maybe if the disco-tech shut down that would be cause for protest but not much else would rouse them frae the routine o' a bridie at Greggs followed by a shout at thae 'Gourangas'. I couldn't switch off frae ma mothers description o' some inhabitants of Fife as being 'basic folk'. Man, this is a proley town. You only need to be in Kdy for 1 min to know you ain't in Edin. Over here 'the festival' means the Bevvy Park Beer Festival, A special event which attracted Jakeys and metallic drongoids with full body tattoos alike. What else CAN you do here except grog?? Doing it in a novelty stylee in a big tent is a truly memorable experience. Where's the Whittards and the Wholefood palaces? Well, we've got Relzo's pet stores and TanFastic. It's even less sophisticated than G/D which is the Lumphinnans of MidLothian. The populace are happy wi' what they have, not in an ecstatic spontaneous way. They just don't know anything else to compare it to. A bit o' lustre and some vibrancy simply couldn't be found on Saturday. Awbody trudged round and round counting the times you made it past the building site which was the old Littlewoods and will soon be the new 'Denims' (I think he means Debenhams) as ma faither called it. To point oot the inevitability of the experience I did genuinely see Bottle John...maybe I should tell you who he is...or not...ok, he's a guy with a learning disability who used to live in the same street as me in the T-Hall part of town. Kdy is not a liberated pliss and he's treated in quite an offhand way by the locals who have probably seen him every day of their lives for years and years. He's not a young man now but folk still scowl and cower away frae him. He was once described to me as 'simple'. He's very high profile in T-Hall. I used to see him a lot when I lived there and I picked up a few of his wee stock phrases. When I worked wi' folk wi' learning disabilities I picked up that most clients tend to have strange non sequiturs that they repeat over and over. BJ always used to look at me and say "I ken that boy. He's ma brother". Another one was "I'm coming to your door tonight". He tended to say these things to most folk tho'. Not awbody knew how to take him. He is obsessed with buses and you often see him going back and forward down to the High Street on the buzz bus things. He has a few odd 'ways' about him. You often hear him before you see him. He has a totally manic laugh that can just erupt out of nowhere and echo round an empty bus. As the moniker suggests he has a thing for collecting those 10 p deposit glass bottles and handing them into chippys. He's almost part of the furniture in that part of the town. Seeng him made me a little tiny bit nostalgic but then the fact I knew I would see him and other faces made me think I would never really escape. It'll never change. I'll come back again. He'll be wandering around the bus station. Bill Gimmix's gut will be bulging through his Harley Davidson cut off outside the Indoor Market. The 'sweary man' will be screaming 'THEY'RE ALL FUCKING YANKEE BAMS' at a group o' petulant Rockport schemies outside Royals. Mr. High Energy and brother will have opened and closed another shit record shop. 'Big Kenny, the 'morbidly obese' serial cider drinker frae Betty's' will have gone into singleton despair and used his 33 RPM voice to kill everyone in his path. (I can see it now. Here's the next in an ongoing series of guides to local uber-legends) Will there be any escape? I have a fear of ending up here SOMEHOW. A lot of folk choose to do it. Please please please don't let it happen. Never let it happen. I dinnae want to die in the land of the Tasty Tuck...as day turned to night in the kingdom, I went to ma faither's 70th bash. I just dinnae have much to report that you couldn't deduce frae yer knowledge of me already. I didn't feel at home. Some of mother's anxieties vexed me bent. I felt as if I hadn't evolved 'correctly'. I wasn't drinking. That felt wrong. I ate fattening food. I was truly wracked with guilt afterwards. I am struggling wi the diet at the moment. Had a few bad days. Am having the worst food pangs I've ever had. I think that contributed to ma mood yesterday. I was fucking ravenous. I just couldn't eat enough food. I didn't have much that was really bad but generally ate too much. Today's been the same. I did have one bad thing. I'm struggling. I doubt if I'll lose much mair at this rate. I'm looking for signs I'm putting weight on. I think I am. From experience I know I do put on weight very quickly. I seriously have to watch. I'll settle for staying round about 15 stone if I can. Fuck. I know I want to and I know how to do it but I'm starting to think it won't be as easy as all that. No sure there's ower much left to say. Sorry for the disjointed nature o' the last twa things. No sure what I wanted to say but I knew I wanted to say them. Am feeling a little odd today. Work was shite. I don't want to be there. Putting the effort in for nae cash is galling! I really feel like taking some time off and recharging tho' I know it'll most likely end up being a negative factor for me what wi' too much time on ma hands and a' that. I'm very tired tonight. No sure I'll sleep tho'. One of those...

Long ago it must be, I have a photograph, preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.

2006-08-13T14:32:00.000-07:00

Aye well I told you I was going to gie ye some detritus. Sadly this is to tide me over 'til I can get a proper affair going on. I've been treading water on something new today. Got bogged down talking about 'berds'!! I was dying to tell you about a memory frae school days. I'm trying to word it so you don't think I'm the next Chubby Brown fanatic or at least, a 'man' who has developed his opinions of said folk from an 'On The Buses' revival or more pertinently, from the shop floor of Kirkcaldy Royal Mail delivery office. Ever since I became aware o' ma feelings re who I was attracted to I've had a slightly skewiff idea of ...ha...the rules of attraction!...you might just have noticed already...I know this has been caused primarily by a feeling o' terminal and hopeless unattractiveness and sexlessness (???) on ma part. The prevailing wind in the backwater I came from didn't help. Ma male peers in the 80's were hell bent on CONQUEST in whatever manner possible. Boorish behaviour appeared to be the only option open to 'one'. It took me a long long time to develop a personal sense of there being a stance I could take and a way which I could go to get away from attitudes which were intrinsically wrong to me. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that because I felt so crap aboot masel I was unable to think about approaching 'romance'/sex/ liking somebody in a respectful and mutually enjoyable way. I knew I liked girls. Unfortunately I also KNEW that they wouldn't like me. I was fat, I was horrid, I couldn't even be a bastard like most of 'them' seemed to like (sorry..but I'm trying to do a Mr. Chips/Roy Walker here) . As ma thoughts developed I knew that while I was still horrid I had a bit o' decency and I hoped that folk knew I tried to get along wi' them despite certain crappy teeny sulks, outbursts, detours etc. As ma sense o' self got stronger I started going mair skewiff. An idea o' something developed along the line of...I see all these girls I like going out with arseholes. I'm not an arsehole. Why not me?? This kinda grew and grew. It outlived logic, maturity, sense. From time to time I've brought my sense of 'injustice' up to a big big scale. I know that nobody will 'like' me and I get oddly annoyed internally at some abstract concept of 'womanhood'...there man I've said it in a relatively straightforward way...this still exists. It draws on my inability to get over teenage shit and 'move on', I guess. It's still there. At bad times I get sweeping and fatalistic and think that I don't understand 'womenkind'! . I'm not sure I've understood individual women, I can say that with certainty. I couldn't really tell you what woman or man-kind meant to me. The bad bit comes when I tend to look at behaviour I've seen from some women and apply this to a 'type of behaviour'...man I know I do it frequently ...and continue to do so. I'm not proud of it. It's a kind o' shit that goes on in ma head based on memories o' crap I've seen that I've allowed to grow into unacceptable areas of thought. Examples of this have been ma dislike o' the glacial thing I've maybe mentioned. On the other post I've been going on about a group of lasses I knew at school. Man, the individuals in the group weren't nice folk at the time...imo... no more no less...I tended to see them as a single entity. I hate aloofness. It's just a horrid thing to project. Being on the other end of it has the ability to fuck with your head as you know dispensing alofness involves a fair bit o' contrivance and intent. Members o' the group o' folk I mentioned seemed to go oot their way to gie you sarcasm and snootyness at most times. Again the internal crap came in. I saw a' this exterior stuff as being a type of behaviour. In ma heid this soon became an aspect of 'FEMALE BEHAVIOUR'. Of course the harder I looked the more I saw women being sullen and blank to me before being open and warm wi' the hipper specimens that came their way. I even made a name for women who were well dressed, cool, said the right things at all times, talked down to you because they could...OR SEEMED TO IMO...these folk were GLACIAL. As ma madness went on I found more and more examples of glaciality (??), predominantly in the indie fraternity. Somehow the hipness value of my Cud 7-inches were no quite on a par wi' that o' the flick fringed young buck wi' the Felt badge frae Southerton Gardens (very posh estate near the school I went to). I couldn't get this insanity oot ma heid. I started to believe it as fact. Women hate me. I don't know what they want. They are ALL this or that. I never felt confident around a woman. I had a' this crap going on. It was unbearable if I knew I 'liked' the lass in question. I just gave in and didnae bother to talk. I never really had any proper female friends 'til TLK. I still feel a lot o' this crap. I lapse into it frae time to time.. well often...it's no pleasant...that's the Mcluckie lowdown on 'my life as a sexist bastard'...good lord...I continue to have this thing re being 'honest' at all times. The other day I heard Reginald D. Hunter say, in context, that he didn't 'trust women'. I thought that took a great deal o' courage. He would probably face a fair bit o' 'flak' for that. I think he was probably expressing similar stuff to me tho' coming from another angle. His show was partly an exploration of his feelings of a need to be honest and the practicalities of 'true' honesty. I loved it. It got me trying to delve into ma ain feelings and fears and failure in getting on wi' you all. One thing I was thinking about and I have thought about for some time. Do any non-males read ma nonsense?? Let me know, one reason being so I can recognise you when you get pissed off at me if we should meet. I am also obsessed with not being seen to be sexist. Shit man. Are we talking about nowt but obfuscation and denial??..Aargh..maybe...god I'm trying to come to terms wi' masel. I think I've got to the letter D. There's a long way to go. Many areas for me to lose you in have yet to be explored...eek...enough of this...I need to change tack...I felt as if that was written in a 'stiff' and 'edited' manner cause I was trying to be so careful what I said. I'll try to get looser in future!! Right here are some unused bits and pieces from a while back. Here's mair stuff re ma feelings on SVQ. I wrote this in July. It was hot and I was a bit lost...ha...Well, it's the Monday vibes. The temp and general Brian Close-ness here in G/D has gone to ma brew and has made me think that my real name is in fact 'Liebling' and that I'm on a mission from the average shagging geezer's favourite actor/ 'the Bugsy Malone' guy tae chuck some chunky old geezer into a vat of gumbo before boffing Mrs. Lenny Kravitz in soft focus, 'culling' a few rooster, and heading off into thae circles of hell somewhere outside Cowdengelly and washing it all down with the stunning album from the frankly intolerable Dr. John which is of course called, 'Down On the Bayou....Again' . If that's not a long winded pishy metaffer then I don't ken what is. I do set the benchmark in something. When did I speak to yous last? Friday? Aye. Back to work on Sat. Nae...SPARROW...but plenty o' strife all related to SVQ. I tried and tried and nearly threw the works PC and masel oot the windae but managed to come up with a 'draft' of a reflective account. The big vibe with SVQ seems to be 'total negation of self'. Any individual thought is wholly unwelcome and unhelpful. All 'they' want is an endless flow of John Houseman with total adherence to the bible of 'covering your back' that is the 'Social Services Code Of Practice' and the broon shirts who police it ie The Care Commission. The care sector runs on a culture of fear, man, a psychosis built on the sense that you are being evaluated for little tiny scraps of 'bad practice' which, somewhere down the line might just turn out to be seen as you lapsing on your 'duty' of care. This is officially the most nebulous phrase in all the land. It usually acts as a device for care industry wonks to have a 'bob each way' ie they can promote all the independence and self-expression they like in their fancy pamphlets and media briefings while at the same time they're bludgeoning staff at the coal face to promote 'independence', they are secretly trying to forget that independence can be downright messy ie it might not produce results (clients winning awards or finding employment or 'behaving themselves' or not acting like 'clients') and clients might also go astray from the Rantzen-esque life path they want them to follow. Now that's where the commish 'hove into view'. It's time to make the aforementioned staff shit themselves. 'YOU NEGLECTED CLIENT X. You reply with something like 'No I didn't, I followed your guidelines and suggestions'. They hit you with the killer. They are indeed hammer hurler, hammer hurlers. " YES BUT. AT THE END OF THE DAY (bland language is a' the rage...I am a cheeky cheeky man after all. I'll be 'bearing ma buttocks' to passersby outside Night Magic before too long) YOU HAVE A 'DUTY OF CARE' WITH CLIENT X'. Well aye I mean, I do. I have a personal moral code and a fully integrated sense o' what is fair-ha ha (as well as a hatred o' fitba' and it's cliche's) but I also prioritise giving the client the space to move at his own pace, to breathe, to interact with the world outside serviceland, to be a human being. For christ sake. What I feel is that the reams and reams of, dare one say it, new laboury, paperwork that fill this sector tend to give off mixed signals re the actual day to day realities of working with PEOPLE. SVQ is a celebration of all this how to 'cover your back'/ 'protect yourself'/shit yersel culture..so there... compilation blogging?? It'll never catch on. I somehow doubt if a 'fork handles' gem will turn up in here either. Mair later, if you're still there. Aye Sunday was mair than a bit shite. All day I felt as if I wanted to tell you 'things' so badly. I could not get the words out in a state that satisfied me. I think that's the explanation for the compilation tape. I wanted to, had to, tell you something, even if it was old and shitty. I knew I was going to have a downer somehow..VACUITY. I kipped at the parents the night before after an inevitable miss the last bus disaster. Spent half an hour waiting at the version of the gates of hell that is the area immediately surrounding disco-tech land Kirkcaldy style for the night bus thing back to Edin. It didnae stop where it should have and I ended up going back to 'the old house'. I suppose it was predictable but the scene in nightclub world wasnae pretty. Something is wrong with us all man if this is what we choose to do on a Fri or Sat night...immolation by grog...the new dawn that is comedy wearing of kilts wi' nae scants underneath...rancid burger vans...DJ Alan Key (geddit???)...hopelessness real hopelessness...there were nae fisticuffs but I've seen so much of this in both Fife and Fountainbridge that tho' I still cannae really believe each new development I see, I'm starting to find wall to wall vomiting and casual brutality commonplace. Jeez man, you know I'm just another of these well adjusted guys who base their moral code and outlook on Marty DiBergi movies. These folk (Mean Streets fanatics and small town binge drinkers alike) have 'either no sense of wonder or no sense of scale'. Sometimes in that toon I know naebody is thinking a metre beyond the 'thank you for visiting the kingdom of Fife. We hope you enjoyed your stay' sign. Aye they can do what they like etc etc etc but surely this pliss-both county and club- can't be the centre of anyone's universe...I know it is tho', there's the muthafuckin' plain clear as day rub...this is how you meet yer other half in Fife, this is how yer desirability is measured, how yer normalcy count is taken. This is what happens no more no less. Underneath a' ma layers o' crap I want to get involved in life. I want to join the human race. I even want to 'just fit in'. But I can't go along with or feel comfortable with or sated by certain mores namely the route of Methy obliteration leading to shagging/fighting and other warriors of Ghengis Khan. Cue Werner...'I don't want any more of this moody brooding"...I don't want anymore of it for masel either but I'd rather sit on the sidelines and quietly scoff than 'let masel go' and be a part of a schemie version o' an early instalment in La Grande Bouffe...Anyway, I'll maybe go into mair detail on ma visit to the parentals elsewhere but I think there was something in the combo of late night madness and going back to the sights and sounds o' ma youth that led me astray...those pigeons cooing all night in the trees out the back. I'm sure you'll find the black lodge in those trees. Maybe I could find my own Annie Blackburn in Fife after all??..jeez.. there's ma tagline for geekydating.com. Anyone want to start a business??...gulls too. My folks live near the sea and the bastards circle all night. They get into your sleep. They remind you of the total multi faceted emptyness of it all man...nobody around, thae papers blowing around outside the Good News, the creaking o' the blue bus shelter which had 'Nae B'land papes frae K'horn' sprayed on it in 1983 ... add that to hearing mother freaking out in the night and getting up to check the water boiler...why does she do that?...every night I would hear her going into the cupboard to 'check' it last thing before bed...fire? heat? cold?...I recalled her obsession with pulling out all the plugs in the rooms too...TV first, pause for uncertainty and to think if it's worth it, then she pulls out the video too. The same routine. I lay on the setee. I knew mother would have the kettle left wi' virtually nothing in it so it boiled quicker in the morning. I knew that father would take 25-30 minutes over his AM ablutions. I knew I would hear mother shouting in her sleep. She did. I knew the cistern would start gurgling interminably before long. In other households the plumber would have been called but I guess ma parents enjoy sleeping with an 8-hour long Merzbow compilation within earshot. I got up and left as quick and as early as I could. I just felt wrong all day.Thae thoughts of Fife started it. You fucks. My own non-writerly brand of writer's block added to it. I began to feel somewhat 'weird'...I felt undervalued godamnit...I felt manic angry, cheated...I wasn't strong on perspective...it was all wrong...I'm skint, I'm unshaggable, I'm not exciting, I'm not worth it, I'm no to be listened to, no to be trusted, I can't even write down how I feel. It was seriously welling up. I've been done out of a life by this mind and these hands and body and face and habits and 'ways'. It wasn't like 'episodes' I've had before. It was more wholly internal. More intensely niggly than all out. I am nothing. You're all something. You all have something. What do I have? An empty page. What can I do? Who can I be? Where's my motivation? My ideas? What am I? I had to be on ma ain even tho' that never does me any good. I wanted to sleep. Instead I ate and then I forced masel to sleep before I ate any more. I knew I would wake up knackered and bloated. I did. Ma mood had bottomed out in the 'mornin'. I thought of how Jim Laker would say that word. The sound would positively lilt wi' a sense o' his beloved blue remembered hills. I guess I felt different/better/n/a...no much to report today...I'll gie you some mair back pages then I'll head..It's a Man's Life in G/D #2134...Oddly enough I am currently sitting next to a man who is looking at mucky pics on the Interweb... in a caff- it's true. You see, G/D has it's own wee microcosmos. It's 'everything goes' in the land of the fading brewery smell. I remember that scent...it was truly intoxicating-ha...when I stayed in the Fife blackness, 'that' smell was Edinburgh to me. It was so unique to the pliss...or so I thought...it seemed that one whiff was enough to get me thinking of 'strolling down the highway' of Morningside having snogged Tamsin for several hours in the Gairdens, all the time keeping my funky backpack stuck tae my shodders and with my shaggy wiggy hair tousled just right. I think I've talked aboot this before but I still recall the sense of a hidden world oot there that I got from sic a rich scent. Well, I'm no trying to make this another metaffer but well...the smell has gone!!...no, I mean it. It has. It's not there anymore. This is indeed the story of ma life, Richard...fuckeridge... the breweries have closed and I've discovered that I am officially 'Undesirable of Edinburgh' and that I have the same foibles and a' that through here tae....ok Gibberd, I know millions of you will ken this line too but..tak it away...'I think that it's brainless to assume that making changes to your window's view will give a new perspective'...aye...Would I ever go back to Fife tho'?...don't be fuckin' stupid...I mean it man... (2) One of the nippiest sounds around is the sound of the keys on a computer keyboard being tapped excessively fast. I always appear to sit near someone who can type at a million words per min. It's an eerie sound. It sounds like a sample from a Man 2 Man Meets Man Parrish record. ...Sun night saw a form of summer in the big city. It was real muggy stuff. I went doon to the semi (?) legendary Henry's Cellar Bar. KB was playing wi' The Certain Death vaudeville show. I'm never sure whether I can say that I 'like' this band or no' but they do indeed make me laugh. They're a bunch o' spunky virill pseudo-chavs frae the 'Cultural Chernobyl' that is Kirkcaldy (I use that phrase AGAIN because it's important in this context. Godamnit). They produce a rappy heavy punker good time rock sleaze assault thing. They are unreconstructed to the nth degree...or are they?? They are silly, silly, silly. Puerile (you don't know the half of it! I've no talked song titles yet). They are ultimately the ultimate good time band. Filter all this through a knowing sense of the way Fife is, an understanding of the (maybe this is me paraphrasing) absurdity of the very idea of choosing to live in Fife and knowledge of the fact that you have to get on with things and fuckin' live dude! This implies they are jest mongers. Well they arnae The Swans, I'll gie you that, but somehow thae have a bona fide affair going down whereby they do irony without the heavily prevelant 'I can jape aboot cause I'm loaded' schtick that has ruined the art of pastiche...for me... Maybe it all feels phat fresh and funky as it's no ma normal scene. I dinnae ken. Acht, I should know by now that if you dinnae intellectualise, particularly when you cannae then you get loads more oot o' life/awhong...so there...I'm dying to get to the titles...I'll talk Fife again. Their personalities are intoxicatingly Fife (has that phrase ever been used before...anywhere??) . These guys really are 'cartoony as fuck' and they love it. They come from a land where 'berds' still have 'some pair of lungs'. They appear to be able to talk re unmentionables and the aforementioned 'berds' love it. Ponder the 'politics' of that if you will. They have titles such as 'Baw Deep', 'Put A Cock In It' (that is the best title ever...there are no possible competitors...) and, allegedly, 'Cum Coming Oot Ma Cock'. They take a pride in talking aboot 'tits and ass'. They do it so naturally! They're no' really The Bloodhound Gang tho' they might like to be. Ya dig?! What I really make of this aside from a feeling of mass bewilderment and a sense that I have insufficient courage to challenge ma ain thinking, I just don't know. KB occasionally stands in on drums for them. His drumming abilities are substantial and he gies them a backbone that they just don't have frae the usual guy who's pretty chunka chunka. Along with the ever-present crunchy riffage and shouty/rappy twin-vocal assualt, they make for a big-up live act. HCB's is no really their vibe tho'. I couldnae stop thinking o' the fact that this used to be a funky jazz pliss, home to Kulu's Jazz Joint or Point or whatever it was called. As far as I know this was an ultra hip funky Mo Waxy ganja friendly club night thing that went on at HCB's a few years back. I mind reading about it in the List when I was officially known as 'insane of Kdy'. Kulu himself seemed to have local hero status. I've always hated local heroes. How dare you have access to 'privilege' cause of the circumstance of funk you fuck. In his pic, he looked like a git- voguey mock- bewilderment and sculpted facial hair. Down wi' the club scene, the classic cuts, the dopest beats. It was exhausting...to me. I mentioned him on a track 'my' band recorded. It was another attempt by me to show you how clever I am. I must stop trying to do that...anyway...so the ghosts of hipness past were abroad. They were dispelled somewhat by the guy who came on first. He was a wee blonde cherub. As they would say in cricketing circles re Jamie Dalrymple/Matthew 'Jazzy B' Fleming et al, he had 'no great natural talent' and proceeded to attempt to cover hitherto nice songs by Springsteen, Bragg et al by turning them all into the same song. He could only play in one chunky rhythm and at one tempo. He club footed his way through 2 guitars. He was an amiable guy. I think tho' that he should be dissuaded from attempting 'Growing Up' and 'A New England' in public ever again. Sorry...He was replaced by some rubbish from the big city, wi' a contrived name who probably have a lot of records by Four Non Blondes or whatever that shrieking Linda Perry band were called, . They had access to slick equipment and could 'play'. The singer chose to force her voice into contortions straight outta the world of Doro Pesch and the horror that brings. They retained something of the Sunday Afternoon jam session at The Three Ways. If you come from Kdy you will know that they had an aroma of the Rich/Rick Campbell about them. I won't explain but in a nutshell they are dull rich kids who produce mainstream music which is dressed up as 'heavy rock' and who think they are 'rad' as a result. ...that's mair than enough o' that. Watch out ET...ADMIT IT- YOU WILL NEVER EVER READ ULYSSES. I saw this wee slice of a kind o' hammy Poly student 'bon mots' on a sandwich board ootside a plush hostelry in Leith where me and the ..SPARROW...used to gan a' the time. It's a pricey place but nice and solid all the same. The board sits ootside the front door day to day and is updated regularly with wee 'funnies' and epithets' .Now, normally you would think that this is the work of some 'ents soc' version of Cyril Fletcher and or a wacky wackster who signs his slogans as 'Buster Gonads'/ 'Guy De Beers'/ 'MC Cunty Baws'/ 'Papa Lazarou' etc etc but some of the wee 'tings are rather nice and oddly poignant in a blunt (Anthony rather than 'cunt' way) yet unassuming stylee. Wish I could remember mair o' them. This one is worth minding...I think. 3 or 4 or whatever number it is- too many is yer answer .I'm in a cheap and fleabaggy Interweb outlet in G/D. It is populated exclusively by folk of Eastern European origin. A lass is sitting next to me now. From time to time , 2 dudes come and sit either side of her. One of them is extremely close to me. They talk loudly and stridently in their ain tongue. It's very offputting. It seems a pretty free deal. They can talk as freely as they like about folk and you wi' yer narrow outlook will never have a scooby what they're saying. Their 'full-on' tone makes me fear the worst. I think they're scrutinising this post. Maybe they know TLK. They'll get her on the blower, develop the finest Richard Wattis-like RP and tell her a few things she'll never forget. Maybe they're talking about how scummy G/D appears to be, maybe they're tuned into what I'm thinking?...namely...that the sound of Ian Brown singing "free from the filth and the SCOOOOOOM" is more than enough to take the wind oot o' the sails o' yer life. Maybe they're talking about the fat baldy guy next to them, maybe they're talking aboot Giles Radice MP. Whatever it is, I wish they wouldnae sit quite as close....modern life is rubbish and Double seat, double seat etc etc etc...you see I've been thinking of many things. I've been goin through a 'lean period'...what's up with ma mood? How do I measure it? Why am I so bland?????!!!! There seems to be a level of sorts that I can grind out and then that's it. It's a niggle. Sorry for the copy and paste. I'll no do it again. Hopefully I'll have some proper stuff soon. Christ, I'm 'starving'. The inevitable psychological difficulties in carrying on wi' the diet after I've reached a 'target' have struck. Please folks go oot and hae something real juicy. It'll mak me feel nourished...sorry...sorry...sorry..

...and what a time it was, it was...a time of innocence, a time of confidences...

2006-08-10T13:11:00.000-07:00

shit man, it's been yet another long long hiatus hernia. I was full o' intent to keep going wi' the regular postage and of course it didn't quite pan oot that way. I just minded that a coupla months ago I wrote a fair bit of a post that I ended up not using. On 'measured' reflection I'm not sure it quite cut the m-m-mustard. I still feel wrong saying that kinda thing. It seems like I'm saying that I have a 'standard' I wish to maintain. I really hope that you dig that just ain't the case. It was more that the aforementioned stuff went on and on and didn't say very much you hadn't heard before or that I hadn't said before either. That I keep coming across these kinda feelings is more or less the main reason for the lack o' regular postings...maybe. I've been trying to keep ploughing through the thickest web of despair and nonsense in the book too ie SVQ level 3- Health and Social Care (Adults). I still have nae idee (That was a typo but I'm going to keep it like that. I used to know a Dutch guy who said 'idee' instead of 'idea'. I liked both him and his penchant for inadvertently slipping back into his mother tongue a great deal. So, this one's for you, Bernie..no that he was called Bernie but you get the drift...) re what I'm doing nor do I have any notion of how it 'proves' I'm a good support worker. It might prove that I can tow a party line of sorts but why anyone should 'need' that to be proven I am clueless dear reader. Work work work has taken over a bit too. There has been a large development re TLK...I'm no sure if I want to allow masel to make as 'undeniable' a mention of her as I'm going to but it does tie in wi' the context o' the work situ. Well she's left the work...I want to tell you about every aspect of it. Let you know the way I felt when I knew I wouldn't walk in and see her there again. As I've said before that was often the only reason I had for going into the place at all. I know it's best that I don't tell you any details. I suppose I should admit at this point that the self imposed ban from writing about her has contributed to a hefty hefty degree in me not updating the blog. She was in my head all the time. I only wanted to write about her. I didn't see the point in telling you about anything else. Acht, I think I know the situ's possibly changed a bit now. Time and reflection and a' that have done the business...well sometimes. I should probably let you know that I just excised a coupla lines. Fuck man, I can't explain it. The way I feel every time I try to sum up ma feelings about her or 'situations arising'. Anyway, she's gone frae the work. We're getting on pretty well at the moment. I saw her the other day. All I'll say is that I continue to feel totally giddy when I see her. I don't think that'll ever really change. Aye in the style I'm now accustomed to from them, the org I work for have not replaced her or KS who's now on maternity leave. We're now 3 staff short. The staff team consists of me. For that I continue to be remunerated to the tune of £1034 per month. My job is a significantly different one to what it was. There is more chance of me winning the lottery-twice- than getting paid overtime. I work way over my 35 hours but I can't even claim it as TOIL because the boss is obsessed with TOIL being 'at the discretion of management' and questions EVERY TIME I have to stay late to write notes or cover support cause there's no staff. She's even went on about 'work time directives' and pish like that when I've mentioned paid overtime before going on to give a relief worker as many hours as she wants. I'm worn out by it. There is so much other shit going down that's plainly unfair...shit I sound like Student Grant there..but man, if you only kent the half o' it...I'm still looking for other jobs but I get so deflated by the thought of writing application forms and having to reflect on ma past and ma deficiencies that I usually chuck the form in the bin after a while. I keep thinking that I now owe the org something seeing as I'm progressing with the infernal SVQ and that it would 'fuck shit up' if I put ma notice in. Money is everything to this lot and they have stuff put in place to charge you if you leave having either just passed or not finished yer SVQ. I don't want to work for these characters any more. I just can't afford to fire ma notice in and fuck off 'til I find something else. It is almost untenable to keep working for them on these wages. Of course they don't know that I'm now bankrupt! It is good to feel I'm living inside ma means but I'm not sure I can do it on this amount of cash. I'm now approachin' AWBODY for £. I'm skint a week after I get paid. I'm juggling ma direct debits and getting charged by the bank. Man, I'm so rooked. I've been getting the odd offer of a shift from an agency but I've not being able to do any of them yet. I have to say that the thought of goin' back to the bum wiping type stuff I did before is no that crash hot. A lot of the shifts I did in the past were sleepovers too. They just fucked wi' ma head. I couldnae handle them. Being on yer ain for 24 hours wi' 4 highly challenging clients in the full darkness o' the Fife badlands wasnae really ma vibe. I think I was insane when I worked at that place too! That wasn't overly helpful...anyway...man, I don't think I want to work in care any longer. Anyone know a supermarket job that pays more than a fiver an hour???...One thing I should mention is the fact that I had a shave today. This seriously affects ma mood. I hate the way I look. This is increased a thousand fold when I'm clean shaven. I think I will grow a full on mofo beard ASAP. I'm thinking Daniel Kitson or David Bazan or even Josh T Pearson. Of course I bet they don't have crippling probs wi' facial dandruff!!! It's true. Any growth I have produces terrible lint which cannot be stopped by anti-dandruff shampoo or moisturiser or ANYTHING. It's fucking shit. I don't have dandruff on ma heid, I never have. Yet another o' thae 'wee jokes' which paint me out to be 'a crumpled sexless man'. But given I've currently got no hair of any kind to cover the horror, I'm working up a sweat to avoid the mirrors in the s/h. Right, here goes, simply speaking, I despise the way I look. My shorn face has something of the financial services drone about it...non-descript, unconditioned, unloveable, blank, chubby, fat, fat fat, there just ain't no funkiness in there, no character at all- it's not scuffed enough to be interesting, it's not 'anything' enough to attract you. My face has not even a semblance of adulthood or at least of a sense that I've arrived there. There is nothing much of the desirably 'real' world about it. You see fumblings and failure and misformed attempts to sculpt it...but there is none of the elegant scuffing that I love so much in others. Ma faither has loads o' these burst bloodvessaly things on his skin, primarily through grog. When I was grogging and fat I started to have them too. Now the grog and bloat period is over they've promptly gone! The only things that showed I was human have fucked off. All you get when you hae a deek is something between Harold Bishop and John 'he wuz robbed by an infarction' Smith. Maybe looking at my face tells me why I hate Duncan Fletcher so much. There's no youth, no joy, no Vernon Kay. Ma mother says I have 'dimples'. Of course, that's been a source of constant consolation to me over the years. I'm oh so clearly not a 'shagger', a 'joiner inner', a 'nubile', a 'desirable'. I know that 'you' see a 'beast' or a 'loner', a 'weird man' , a 'radgie' or a 'gadgie', somebody who could never understand yer 'dress up as an indie' world or yer 'Francois Kevorkian' remixes or yer 'love' and 'happiness' or yer 'pulling power'...but oh for the wonder and possibilities of facial hair...obscuring with a' thae minor league possibilities...I can pretend to be a Mark Eitzel or even a Steve McQueen circa that time he went 'crazy in the 70's'. If only I was able to wear dark coloured clothing at the same time then it would be ok. If you offered me a face transplant man, I would take it. I can't stand looking at this motherfucker any mair. It's failed in all the jobs that faces are supposed to do. It doesn't instil trust, desire, calm etc and it certainly doesn't make you want to stay looking at it for any period of time. I HATE THIS FUCKING FACE...and as for the internals that gan wi' it...well.. One o' the guid vibes o' the moment comes from ma current weight loss. The last time I weighed masel I was 14st 10 lb's. When I started dieting I weighed about 20 and a half stane. To get under 15 stone was something of a holy grail for me. I've now lost 5 and a half stone in about 4 and a half months o' dieting but I still feel lumpy. My body has nae 'definition'. I'm too fuckin' lazy to 'sculpt' it. I know I have lost all the weight. My gut is not there any more..but large bits at the sides still are. All the 'negative body pish' IS STILL THERE. There's no satisfaction to be had...ever!!!...fuck me... Not sure I can get much lighter in weight than this. I know I've put in a load o' effort. Until yesterday's 'treat' at celebration o' the breaking of the 15 barrier I didn't 'cheat' at all. No chips/crisps/chocolate/ and hardly any cheese since March. Definately no grog either. I did get a bit carried away at times. I'm pretty sure I know how easy it is to develop an eating disorder. That sounds so glib but I can genuinely recall a desire to make masel sick after I'd binged and feeling 'scared' to eat a proper meal. I think I probably ate around 5-700 calories a day at times. The recommended intake for a male is 2,500 I believe. I didn't take anything that had more than 3-4% fat in it. I was pretty fascist about it. I'm not sure what I need to do to get a shape that I like tho'. I think in all honesty, bearing in mind the 'image' thing I have, I won't ever find it unless wee gingery lasses suddenly start to dig my bell shaped stomach and lack of physical fitness. I have to look on this as purely a health thing. I weighed round about 20 stone for 18 months or so. That ain't guid. It's just better to be at this kinda weight. I know now that psychologically, seeing as I've broken the big barrier and reached one of ma targets it'll be hard to keep going. I've found it really hard today I can assure you. Been off the work. I took some days off for ma dad's 70th and his bash the morn. Been bored, skint. Feeling rather shit. Thinking o' the life goin' on 'oot there' and of course HER etc etc etc. This makes me want to eat lots of stodgy food. Not done too bad, I suppose. I admitted defeat a wee bit and allowed masel a bit more of the 'not too bad' stuff than I normally would. Nae big gorges. I want to keep at this weight if I can. Sometimes tho' I still feel like 'they' see me as a fat person and that hurts. I think that might just be mair o' ma ain insanity. I'm so used to the bastard now, it's hard to tell...I mentioned faither's bash there. Aye, it's in Auchtertool tomorrow night! A kickin' Saturday night indeed. For those of you who don't know where/what Auchtertool is, it's a wee hamlet somewhere between Kirkcaldy and Cowdengelly. A developed country this ain't. It's famous for having a large granny farm and a hostelry called the Kiwi Tavern. It shows the type o' family we are that we should choose to come to sic a shithole. Faither has 'simple' tastes and he'll be in his element here. I think I've spoken before re a lack of 'connection' I feel I have wi' the family. It's never far away when I'm at family bashes. My dad is a man who I've gotten used to only in the last 5 years or so. He was prone to 'doing his own thing' when I was younger and so we maybe didn't build up any great 'rapport'. I'm not sure we have that now but I have a bit of an understanding of him, I reckon. I can dig his obvious feelings of not fitting in wi' conventions or norms from outside his ain class. At least it's something we can share! I also like his quirks and peculiarities. His way of invariably pronouncing things in Fife-ese and his penchant for phrases along the lines of " You dinnae want to drink too much o' that stuff son, It'll make yer baws drop off" (he said this when he saw me drinking fresh orange juice. He thinks vodka's a far more wholesome drink) and the like. He also seems to care about me. An inkling of that wasn't always too forthcoming from him but he makes an effort now. Maybe a total understanding of our individual ways of doing isn't possible but a bit o' godamned 'respect' (this is all getting a wee bit too (Roddy) Manley for me. Next I'll be telling you about familial pissing contests and the efforts I went to to catch Apocolypse Now 'on the big screen') just might be...maybe maybe...I was going to drone on about mother. That would be too exhausting at this time! We have indeed got all the time in the world. I'll mention one more thing re family bashes...the matter of being the perennial singleton. This is another factor which points me out as a child/man misfit type. I go along there with bulging gut/nae hair/nae winning personality looking nervous and dressed 'wrong'. At the moment all ma claes are too big and I can't afford to buy decent ones that fit. The only jacket I have just destroys ma mood whenever I wear it. I feel as if I'm embracing normality and dowdiness when putting it on. It is also still way too big. I want to wear claes that are scuffed and imperfect.I don't want to look like a churchgoer or a (clothed- ha) civil servant even if the rest of ma frame and face might match. Fucking 'poverty'. The rest of you have access to credit! At least you can give the illusion of having a few bob. Credit is a wonderful thing, it really is! It means you don't have to endure some of thae litanies of pain straight from the Desmond Morris collection...read into that what you will...anyway, folk of ma age are no 'meant' to be single, let's face it. It means I'm 'weird' quite frankly. That of course is the case but...fuck it man. I don't want to be alone. Even if I've had it this way for 35 years. I don't want it any longer. I get very distracted by thoughts of the horrors I've seen going aboot wi' their 'berds' and their other halfs and a' that. I can't help thinking " what do they have that I don't?" I'm as fucking basic as that. I just seem totally immune to 'attracting' people. Maybe the answers in the fact I look at it in that way but after years and years I can't imagine a situ where 'it' would happen. You 'all' think of me as unfunky and out of tune. How do I get round that thinking?? ie MY thinking. I despise the fact that society does look at you strangely if you're on yer ain. I just wish I felt comfy being that way. I really don't. I waste time when I'm on ma ain. I can't get started. Going out places just isn't the same either cause you've naebody to share yer experiences/ feelings wi'. I'm sitting about prior to goin to the family bash and that's what I'm thinking about. How will I look? How do I look? Why do I look this way? What caused me to come across like this? How does so much get lost in translation?! (yeah, I have so much depth inside here and you just don't see it man...fuck sorry...)...I think you get the idea. Let's move on... Aye thanks to CH, I've been going to a few fringey things. I really do love being in a pliss where 'things' seem to be going on and happening. Even if being in a massive group of middle class folk causes me 'difficulties' I want to be around people godamnit. I know I have 'solitary' tendencies! I feel these have come out of a reaction to ma situ (!!...it gets worse) rather than any innate hatred of human beings (with certain exceptions at various times!!!). Ma probs come when I think of people as 'types' ie 'the middle classes', 'the funky ones', 'the indie kids' 'the Le Tigre fans' ( the most intimidating sub-species in the world. Have you ever met an LT fan who wasn't 'stylish' ???) 'intellectuals' 'church going muthafuckers' etc. The problem is that people revert to type so easily!! We all do it..masel included. Schtick and familiarity is clawing at us all the time bellowing away re how we should shroud ourselves in something to 'fit in', to 'get on'. Fuckin' hell man, this shit fucking drags me down...anyway, man, I want to be around folk. I don't want to be in the margins. I want to be where the red eye will break my back in 2 (thanks to Sooyoung for 'allowing' me to paraphrase). Frae that pov the fringe is unsurpassable. The prole-y quotient at things I've been to with one gang of scum-y exception I'll mention below consisted of me and CH. At the wonderful DK show I'll talk about, we were sitting sandwiched between 'the chattering classes', no more no less. This lass moved into the row behind us and it turned oot she knew the dude sitting next to me. They began what was possibly the least 'destinctive' or individual conversation I think I've ever heard. The way it was intoned loudly into my left ear was a bit much. Honestly man, these people had lives ..or ok presented it that way..like you read about and that you're meant to have. She had come up for the fest from an affluent part of the south...no, silly not on her own, of course she had a man... If he wasn't called Jonathan I would be absolutely shocked..she was staying in Morningside...she had just finished work at 'the theatre', it was going well..she had been to see the festival 'hot tickets' ir the 'Talk Radio' thing...she was of course called Anna...or was it Imogen?...naturally she had a voice pitched between Moss and Winslet... and their lives were all about doing things, flying here and there, meeing her and him. When the boy chipped in he sounded like Toby Stephens and it was going well for him too...what got to me the most was how flat their conversation was. They sounded warm initially and they clearly did ken each other well but it was ALL small talk. No deviations from 'the way one talks in polite society' or from the paths that 'one' naturally follows ie advancement, self expression, holidays, weddings, christenings. I'm struggling to sum what it 'meant' to me. I think it was just shocking to keep hearing how the other half maybe are. Their lives are as far removed frae mine as could be in a society like ours. They seemed to be made of cardboard and have lives that were only written post Cold Feet or This Life. There were no tones of voice present outside the ordinary, no signs of failure, no admittance of defeat or anything that made them human godamnit. For all their exaggerated warmth they were machines, man. They were grinding ever onward until they were all technical directors of the Almeida Theatre. Part of me wants this 'fulfilled' life. This 'easy' life. I just don't want to sit on the fringes-ha! and hear it battered into me how poorly equipped I am to 'get ahead'...no really...moving on again...I'll tell you aboot a coupla things I went to see the other week. I sent an email to AM and I'll let you read some of it. There will be explanatory notes afterwards...
ma fringey stuff's been pretty good so far. Faves were Reginald D. (he was great pure and simple!- brutally honest,suave, warm, awhong really...) and Wil Hodgson (I couldn't stop thinking of Bonzo when I saw him...the stories, (almost) the look, the outlook...magic stuff). Bit of contrast there, I reckon. Saw a Welsh guy called Mark Watson who was pretty good too in a nicely surreal (lower case) stylee. Stanhope?...mmm...he produced a lot o' 'thae emotions' in me. The crowd were just horrid...tables crammed with pissed up geezers bellowing along to any mentions of euphemisms for genitalia and they kept REQUESTING JOKES!!!!!> (what the f***?? now that's a breach of comedian etiquette..in my view. I couldn't get the image oot ma head of millions of students in the early 90's filling the arenas of the land to shout for more gags about the singer of Ride from thae smug Mary Whitehoose mofos in their headset mic things). There were folk there wearing his t-shirts!!! He's clearly a very bright man and he has a delivery and range o' 'words'(!) that you just don't hear too often. He also did a couple of very nasty gags which were lapped up by the f***wits. He had a lot to say about many o' the 'big' things but I didn't trust him! I think he knows what he's doing. Because o' ma lack o' cash/stereo/magazine reading I hadnae realised that he had a 'following' and was a man of the moment. I just hate being part of 'something' and having that feeling that I'm watching somebody you're 'supposed' to like or who is the best/ the most extreme/ the hippest etc etc. Shit man, I was part of an industry! It put me off big big time. I've seen that erudite yet bellicose everyman thing done a good few times before and he IS the best at it but to most folk it might have been Chubby Brown they were watching. I'll say it again. He knows what he's doin'. He went on about his audience being lonely losers playing wi' themselves etc etc. The guys in this crowd weren't losers. They were (in the US vernacular) jocks. Some of them even had girlfriends. In fact I would gather most of them 'score' on a regular basis. That just felt wrong to me!..shit.. From what I could gather the best laughs were reserved for gags about urethras etc... I didnae have a good time...hell...went to see Daniel Kitson's play thing at The Traverse last night tho'..that was great...ah..melancholy...it's a real addiction, man... That probably sums it up, I reckon. Bonzo is a guy frae Leven who I like a great deal. He's a natural raconteur and is one o' thae guys who seems to have talent in most areas...artistic, writing, the whole shebang. I wish more of you knew about him. I'm sure you know who Doug Stanhope is. Not sure I need to say much mair. Well I suppose it's getting to yon time. Before I head I'll quote again frae the AM email... talking about the blog, did you see the comment that somebody had put up on there? I was a bit suspicious that it could have been mucky spam of some kind. It seems to be a genuine if uber patronising comment but it seems that the gist of the blog is aboot this guy and his sexual conquests wi' Thai women. I skimmed it and didnae see any mucky stuff just lots of 'interweb crap' but apparently there are a number o' 'photaes' on there ...great...the land o' the interweb... aye I mean it's great to get comments and that but they're maybe no that welcome from all sources shall we say. I hope that nobody saw the link on here and went to his blog on a works PC. That really does worry me. I thought about it and I tried to remove the comment but I can't remember how to do it. I got rid of a comment once before but it's currently beyond me. I thnk I'll treat this as 'mucky spam' and eject it when I can. I'm no trying to be a moral etc etc but come on man, the fucking irony of flogging yer male fantasy pish on a blog like this is pretty thick! I'll get rid of it when I can but please mind not to link to it unless you want to see flesh and a highly questionable writing style- ha!...well that's probably about it for now. I'll try to write some stuff soon. What I might do is tidy up some old bits and pieces that I never used and let you see them. So hopefully I'll put something up soon. Suppose I'd better end in the time honoured vibe...how do I feel at the moment?...you know what man, I really dinnae ken...there are loads o' good and loads o' bad and the old shit is still in ma heid...it's 12 gold bars all over again...

Exhibitions In Leslie

2006-06-30T12:56:00.000-07:00

Friday night. Thought I would try to capitalise straight away on my earlier burst o' creativity (I get fucking worse and worse!) and post for the second time in the day after ma twa month hiatus. Of course the real reason is to get me away from the SVQ thing that I mentioned earlier. Just been to the land o' the Interweb and did a wee bit. Verily, it is the McLuckie version o' pushing a Richard Griffiths (Derek might just be in there too) sized boulder up the Binn Hill. Almost impossible. I've had many times when I've tried to write 'things' and I get totally clogged. What makes this worse is the fact that I have nae desire at all to finish it. It's no 'my stuff'/'my thing. 'WHERE'S MY MOTIVATION, YOU FUCK!!!! I just can't see what writing this fucking thing says re my work 'practice' and how I approach my duties. All it shows is that I can assemble a series of stock responses like a social care robot (I know the org I work for will utilise them pretty swiftly when they are 'born'. Human beings are just too expensive/greedy etc etc) and can obfuscate correctly re how I produce 'evidence of good practice'. Man, please believe him when he says (ah, Richard.."The last time I saw River/ He was lying face down, he fell down face down /So please believe him when he says/ten bucks won't last you a very long way". Perfection) writing this fucking thing will add years on me. I am doing it under severe severe duress ie to keep a semblance of peace at the work. I have to forget about it for a wee while. Ditto the fact I'm going back to the work the morn. A work place which is seemingly devoid of staff...apart from me. Welcome back Jock...It just dawned on me, maybe we could devise a code word that I could use to imply periods when I was thinking heavily re 'her' or if an encounter therein was being referred to (mind that I'm not going to talk about the TLK 'thing' any mair!) so that some of the blanks are being filled in for you if you notice me getting a wee bit too rambly and wobbly. It's a unique experience to play virtual scratch and sniff wi' the magic of McLuckie and imagine the 'full on night'/Dick Emery out-take that is my existence. Here comes that word so get ready to think o' the fact I wear odd socks as a matter of course/ the fact the s-h was infested wi' ants for a while/ please mind that I have a smaller gut than I used to and also don't forget that I am 'a champion methane producer' (What happened to Les/Lesley of Silverfish fame??? Maybe she's off collaborating wi' Francois Kevorkian on a seerious of crucial cuts) and it should be pretty easy to form a pen picture. It's tasting the paste without any of the fun or the bodily fluids. Don't worry. I dinnae ken what I'm talkin' aboot either. We're all in this together (ha that's somebody else's tagline, isn't it?). Right then. How about SPARROW. I'm not going to explain even if you ask me! Whenever I drop that in, get thinking re, as Daniel would say, ' a man obsessed' and how he can't focus because he's on lovelorn absence. Shit. You get the idea. I mean it tho'. I will use that word to fill in the blanks. I'll try and put in an example to show you how it works!! So the night, to force oot the crap I'm thinking o' how I should have the last Quorn burger that's in the fridge and blow the 'calorie controlled' vibes even further. I'm thinking re how faither was obsessed wi' what he deemed to be the only correct pronounciation o' Mark Calcavecchia. He used to get proper animated if anyone said Kal-Ka-Veck-ia. It HAD to be KAL-KA-VECCHY. He couldn't bear to hear the Hay and Aliss approved version. There used be a family in ma home town called Scordecchia and that was defiantly pronounced SCO-DECCHY by awbody so he thought he had an insider deal going on. Maybe he did. The word mediate seems to be good enough for old Rocco. For a further exemplar o' faither's enunciation, see also Mig-der-mund for McDermott. Anyway. SPARROW. After that I'm now thinking o' how there are some nights that are worse than others. Tom Baker is on the telly. What can bring me down? Notification of a 'periodic inspection of the property'...next Tuesday...well maybe...but maybe not...I might go adrift in the summer night. That would be ok. SPARROW.

I Lived Next Door To Bottle John/ I Have Conversed With Bill Gimmix

2006-06-30T02:39:00.000-07:00

Aye well, I miss your smile, it's been a while etc etc. I'm back kinda. Does that imply a wish to use the phrase 'yowsa yowsa yowsa' in a semi-wanton manner akin to ma ain stylee? I really hope it does. Been taking an uneasy breather. Felt as if I'd ranted and raved ma way up the proverbial creek. Didn't feel a' that crash hot re what I'd been writing. No saying very much. Not being able to capture what I want to say. Too TLK-centric. Worried big time re what 'she' would say if she read any of it. Still am but have decided not to delete any of it. Pig- headedness, stupidity, a whacked-out sense of keeping it real, whatever. I'll try not to add any more along thae lines. This will be so hard. Will attempt to bear the almost mythical 'wider picture' in mind, I guess. I will say this. Nothing much has changed on 'that front'. No point in repeating it. I really want to tho'. I want to tell you every single detail. About her. Cheap wee things like how great (in the Jeremy Kyle sense) she is. How it seems like I've experienced every emotion there is to feel since I met her. From genuine depths of total despair (no really) to something that might just be akin to the briefest, tiniest flashes of elation and completeness. A' thae shades/hues (even allowing for ma limited vocab I just cannot use the word 'texture' in there, I would feel like Jonny Greenwood trying to describe how great the Pixies are) . It's all quite outwith ma range o' living and abilities to process. Truly crazy, I think. I have still thought of nothing/ no-one else for the last 15 months. I've not achieved any 'clarity' on it. It just seems to roll on and on. I'll gie ye an example of how the old stuff has continued. This incident caused me to internalise so much that I doubted for a while I would be able to ever write it doon. I thought about it endlessly. It catches ma mood lately. (This is not just down to TLK stuff but mostly- ha). I was on ma way back to the s-h frae work. The situ on the day had been too much. I left the office before her. I shall not go into details but I needed to get away. I heard her walking up behind me. A surge of possibility and madness at the same time. I thought, she's going to talk to me, even if it's about how to contact the refuse department, it doesn't matter. She came up behind me, said 'see you next week' and then crossed the road to walk on her own while I walked in the same direction. The feeling of TLK walking across the street, behind me, away from me. It felt unbearable. I can't put it any other way. Being reminded in such simple terms o' yer distance frae somebody. Of course this only matters if you don't want the distance to be there in the first place. The distance needs to be there but every part o' me doesn't want it. This is her putting boundaries even further in place. I felt it was an unneccessary thing to do tho' of course she didn't mean anything by it. I was totally crushed. It was an everyday thing for her. She didn't see any supposed subtext and why should she?. In ma heid it was nothing but subtext and innards and processes. She doesn't know the true extent o' ma feelings, natch. As I am insane I'm still messed up by a' this. Seeing her every day is not on. I would love to tell you the full details of it. Common sense and the fact that she is alive and therefore potentially able to read this means that I shouldn't. So I won't. This will be the last 'straight ahead' mention of 'that topic'. So, this is no ma first attempt to get started with something again. Couldnae get it the gither. Many vicissitudes at play. In cheapo shorthand form, most writerly or 'creative' ventures on ma part get thwarted by a blanket sense of futility/boredom/defeat/tiredness (!) ie a' the delights of maleness and 'boy rock' (not heard that one in some time. I wonder if the NME still use that phrase. I would guess not) that you may be used to hearing frae me. It still seems to just, you know, take me over (that leathery old skagger Bret(t) Anderson understands me) when I let it. It tends to happen after I've been doing any one thing for a wee while. The doubts and the inability to see a wider picture get too much, too vivid and I give in. I can see masel doin it but the nature of the beast and of me tends to make it hard to defeat or so I reckon. For anyone who's maybe read this before I'll try to sum up what's been happening of late...here goes...there have been roadworks ootside the s-h. Oddly enough these only appear at night. A kinda Lynchy hum emanates frae a generator thing. It never stops. It goes all night. It's tuned into ma heid and is battering away against debt and the shite that I feel. Been listening to stuff by 'my band'. Some bits are merely ok. Others aren't even that. I think about how my limitations are never far away. I think re how 'writing' exposes them. I think about all thae couples sitting in cinemas that start muttering re how 'he's not going to sit in front of us, is he?' when I walk into their row. IT STILL HAPPENS. I think of them seeing me as the public enemy that I feel like I am. A shitty guy who is 'always on his own' (the worst crime in the world. If you're on yer ain you're not virill or likeable or shaggable, you're not 'a good laugh', you will get 'heavy', you will get 'uncool', you will disturb certain reveries). If I wanted to be 'on ma ain' this would not be a problem. I despise being alone and having to deal with ma inward workings all day. The pleasure aspect in 'experiencing' AWHONG- ha ha ha ha- is hugely reduced if you've naebody to feed it back to, to get another viewpoint from, in fact fuck it TO SHARE IT WITH. I'm not just talking about having a 'relationship' wi a 'partner'. It feels like I've crept back into patterns of doing things on ma own. For me that means being too feared to go out and to do little aside from what's easy and safe. Creeping out to go to the pictures feeling paranoid and hunted by COUPLES (it's true) and by ideas of how YOU LOT find life easily and easy and how people want to 'be with' you and of all the middle class synonyms for 'radgie gadgie'/ 'bonnie deekin'/ he's 'weird' etc. I feel so bereft of social skills and of an ability to have a sense that I'm a human being like THEM. Being on ma ain is no good for me. I want to experience closeness and an intimacy of some kind. In my day to day thinking this is way beyond impossible. It's not that I think I am unattractive. I know I am. I fixate on how no-one has EVER expressed an 'interest' in me or indicated they found me attractive!!!!!. I move into real bad territory when I get sidetracked on thinking re certain people who seem to have nae probs in 'pulling' or call it what you will. Their ability to do so often seems to be down to how they can dance to shit music or entertain their intended or smile a lot or how they display their 'confidence'. I can't do any of these things. Until recently I was very fat. Of course I'm still very negative. I'm bald and I've got a small, Bob Todd-esque willy. I ken they are 'turn offs' !! I'm trying to be funny but most of the time I feel like I cannae change the negativity bits and 'alter' the situ. I'll be the guy wandering aboot in 'radge claes' at the age of 57 wi' schemies thinking I'm one o' thae 'beasts' who's ayways on their ain. I think in absolutes cause that's all I've ever known. I never seem to mean enough to folk to dispel the stuff in here. I seem to need you to gush with praise every time you see me. That would improve things. But the way the world is that's no going to happen til I do something tangible ie til I am known for something. So I'll only be complete the day I join Les Ferdinand or get approved in one o' thae publications. It feels like ma insanity has worked me into a corner and that nothing 'minor' will be enough to turn my self image around, to get me away from the horror (!!!!!!...sorry...I wish I was joking) . Enough of this..what else?...went 'on holiday' for a coupla weeks. Saw a load of students and a few bands. The bands were mostly guid but being exposed to so many students made me think again of how 'something was missing'. There were 2378 moments of ennui and a few odd ones. The oddest one was probably when I met 'comedienne' Lucy Porter! I was described as 'Big John'. She replied with "Hi, I'm little Lucy" which was rather great. I stayed in a scary B & B in Brighton. The prop had a thing going on somewhere between Rupert Rigsby and John Reginald Christie. I emerged from his establishment alive. In fact seeing as I liked Brighton a great deal I emerged rather settled and content. The town/city had the right levels of bohoness and normality. I get freaked by too much of either vibe. It was the right size. London was within visiting distance. It wasn't Gorgie/Dalry. It wasn't Kirkcaldy. It was far away from a' the shite o' ma life (for fuck's sake). I've been thinking about moving down there. Everything takes so long with me. I wish I was someone who, if he wanted to move somewhere would just invite himself on to somebody's couch for a while. I have been looking for jobs doon there. Physical distance from certain situ's will help me. Thinking about 'her' from afar will somehow be easier. Aye well, due to flogging a few tickets for the festival things I went doon to I actually had some disposable cash which paid for ma upkeep for the coupla weeks. All it seemed to mean was that I had access to fattening foods. Didn't do too bad but lost it a little on the last coupla days. I now weigh roughly 16 and a half stone, which is a fair bit remove from the 21 stone bulk at my peak. I'm going to keep going at least til I get under 15 stone. When I worked for the Post Office I was probably 14 and a half stone. That sounds pretty guid. Again, what I want to achieve by losing weight is uncertain. It's no as if I'm going to suddenly cast off 35 years of 'image' and 'pull' 'berds' because of it. However it's nice to be able to shop in 'normal' clothes shops, if I had any cash! Talking of which, I think(!) my trust deed thing is now protected. I've not heard frae the insolvency people for a while but the closing date for objections passed nearly a fortnight ago. One of my credit card folk are still phoning ad nauseam with threats of court etc. I picked the phone up by accident first thing one morning expecting it to be ma mother and instead got the usual 'financial services' bollocks. It spooked me a little because it was first thing on the day after the deed would have become protected. I hadn't had any of these calls in 2 or 3 weeks. To get one out of the blue was scary. Not had the courage to phone ma insolvency folk to 'clarify' the situ. I'm sure they would have phoned me if I needed to arrange bankruptcy proceedings in the court. Maybe I should call, even if they could just ward off the 10 0870 calls a day to both home and moby phones...mmm...relations with the folks are ok yada yada. We're still close in a distant way and vice versa. Ma faither demands to have a book written about him. Any takers?! He said to me the other day re ma dietary changes , "Aye son I thought you'd abandoned that veega thing". I changed the subject pretty quickly. Later that day he ranted on and on re house prices in Fife (as well as someone he swore was called Harry Hit!!!...but that's another story). As that's the only pliss he's ever lived he tends to see it as it's own universe and doesn't always think outside of that. He often refers to Kirkcaldy (they live in a wee villagy pliss outside the town) as if it's the hub of modern society/the bright lights etc. I suppose it is, when all you have is a David Sands, a coupla pubs and a choice of churches. I try to think if I miss the family environment. I know that I try to get away from spending time with them. I only seem to see my brothers when I'm in a drinking phase (been drink free for 3/4 months now. Don't intend to return). They think I try to avoid them or am 'down' at all other times. They're probably right. Whenever I'm on the wagon meeting up with them would involve elements of 'forced' conversation without the buttress afforded by being 'tipsy' and maybe that's hard for both parties. I try no to think about it but fuck man, I'm always putting on an act of some kind. Every minute of every day, even when I'm with masel. I'm playing around with thoughts and coming up with the easy option and the way out and the means to get by with as little damage as possible. It's exhausting. Is anyone really easy in their skin??? I certainly ain't...anyway...I've been on A/L for a week and I'm going back to work the morn. I am truly dreading it. I don't want to go there ever again. I want to put ma notice in and fuck off. There has been some major shit going on lately. For this week the staff team will consist of me. Total procrastination has been taking place re replacements and I know that nothing will have been sorted when I go back in. Ma shifts will have been changed. I'll be on ma ain all weekend etc. Some gargantuan strife has kicked in while I've been away. Facing up to the detritus frae that is no a nice prospect. I've also been working on an SVQ assignment. It has brought me real pain. It's been possibly the biggest struggle o' ma life!!!...it's true because it phrases questions in a way that my brain just can't handle and it's been a deprogramming process to be able to even get started. My whole body will shut off if it thinks it's been asked to do something I've deemed 'impossible' or have no interest in. That's what's happened here. Somehow I've got 50/60 % through the first assignment. I need to get it finished ASAP. It is fucking torture. I know I can answer everything in there but my brain cannot get round the way it's all written and laid out. I feel like I'm having to learn a new language and I cannae do it. The whole thing makes me face up to the fact I'm just no that bright. That's hard for me. I'm a life long self deluder. Ha. Anyway, I'm back. I ken this post hasnae been that crash hot. I felt I needed to start it again with something, anything. I hope I'll be able to post more regularly. I might go back to doing some of the looser stuff I used to post on here. I feel better when I'm writing that 'material'. I can cover things up a bit more...eek..the art of internal monologueing by AN Other....aye, look I'd love to hear frae folk. If you want to ask me any questions or would like to hear aboot other stuff, gie's a shout/ tell me to f. off. Oh aye, and Mummy Caesar, if yer oot there, talk to me and tell me who you really are ie You're Mr. Germlin aren't you?!...

Did Darlinda Ken The Reels?

2006-04-29T11:28:00.001-07:00

...so Friday then... I would have to describe Friday as a McLuckie 'curate's egg'. The paranoia was raging from early in the day. Things seemed to get less absurd later on. I was glad. One thing re not doing daily blog posts is that you lose track o' certain things you might have done at a particular time on that day. From what I mind re the first part o' Fri this is no bad thing. I think I did ma share o' internal flapping. Another thing I did and that I just shouldn't do at this time is look at my bank account. In yet another act of total folly of course I did. I couldn't get it away from it. It was 4 days after pay day. I was 'almost' skint. I might as well have been. I might as well have not been paid. These were horrid feelings. I'm going to need to borrow some cash from somewhere for the rest o' the month or for the rest o' ma life. Borrowing from individuals is nowhere near as appealing as borrowing from institutions. I do have a conscience you know. How have I got in this shit?... Anyway anyway I think I was in the land o' the interweb for a good while. After that I met KB and went to see SM play heavy metal! Aye, Under Thorns were playing at The Canonsgait in the nether reaches o' The Royal Mile. While I was waiting for KB I was standing in Hunter Square just up the road from one of the main TLK haunts in that part o' town. I looked down the road. It was her! Ma stomach nearly emerged oot ma mooth. She walked closer. It wasn't her. Just a good lookalike, whoever she was. Similar clothes. The same look, tho not quite of course. Jeez. Fuck man. Why am I still caught up in all this??? I'm feared to bump into her on the street. The thought of it causes me a load o' stress. This is like what's supposed to happen to you when yer 15. The difference being of course that that never happened to me. I've never been sufficently attracted to someone or 'in love' with them. Given ma past too there's no way I could possibly bump into an ex either cause I don't have any! It feels rather inhuman and 'unnatural' going through these vibes at 35 but I've began to take them for granted when it comes to 'love' or owt like that. Dwelling on it makes me feel like I have no 'life skills' at all and in this particular sense that's probably a correct assumption. So, the gig was in an odd wee 'cellar bar' downstairs. It was a most poky pliss. To paraphrase ma mother it was 'right Leven'. I thought I was back in The Hunting Lodge circa 1991. Loads of crust and some stripey tights too. It felt like some of these folk had been in hibernation since then. The headliners were full on crust apparently. There were some very smelly guys in the room right enough. I didn't stay to see them. I thought of the infamous CH story re a crusty lass and a drinkng fountain. I thought it best to leave promptly.The first band on were frae Poland. They all looked ascetic and uptight. Andrew Golota appeared to be playing the drums. They were thumpy thumpy in a nice way. UT were great I thought despite the scree and mud that constituted the 'live sound' in the pliss. I reckon they will 'entertain' (in the best possible way) a fair number of you in the forthcoming while. While there I met a few faces frae Kdy I'd not seen in some time. Guid folk all. I keep having this desire to 'immortalise' (ha! That's very arrogant) people I know in some grand form...I can see it now...here are 2 'briefs' to the grand premiere at The Lochgelly Theatre of 'My Year Of Alcohol With TLK' written and directed by Mcluckie and starring 'the people'. Part of me wants to try. Other parts have already told me that it would be 'too difficult'. I'm no Mike Leigh or even Mike Yarwood that's for certain...anyway, enough of this madness...seeing as I'm getting old now ma ears were stinging towards the end of the night. I simpered up the road. CH phoned en route frae Glasgow. I met him off the bus. We talked and went to the legendary Favorit at 12.30 AM or so. In Fife there is no such thing as 'a civilised place' where you can go after midnight. In the big shitty it seems you can sip tea in 'non-threatening' environments at any time of the day. I managed to resist fattening foods (sit- in food at 1 AM in the morning! There are indeed many many things I love re the city. It feels surreal to be party to all this. I dig being able to 'fill the endless night' in this way. It feels like I've 'arrived') and bathed in late night civilisation. It was pretty balmy. A nice fillip tae finish the day, I guess.. Well on Sat I met KB. Mood was up and down at first but talking was good. Perspective was supplied. I went to KB with the 'feelings of doom' I've had lately. He managed to snap me out of most of them. How did he manage that? These feelings were well ingrained. Being forthright helped. I must learn from that. We walked around in the brewery smell just like I dreamt about doing most days frae the age o' 16. The weather was great. After a while everyone I saw started to look like TLK. It's true. Ginger hair and frickles had become the norm. I got happier. I thought about her as I walked. Switch off now cause this'll sound bad but I thought of how she smells! Could somebody else call the coppers please? I'm not going to make it worse by describing her smell. I'll let you guess. I'm feeling way sheepish. To recap...Last week after she'd left the office, by mistake I picked up a bottle of water that was hers. It was TLK right there. I found it intoxicating. Her smell was everywhere in the room. She'd been away for some time. I doubted my sanity at the time. I told KB about it. He put on his scientist hat. He said that one of the main factors in attraction is the way we smell, our scent. I felt guilty about it. Seedy. I thought of poor Timothy Treadwell and his bears. I should have listened more to my uncle KB. We are indeed apes after all. I tried to keep these images out of ma mind. We went to 'vegetarian restaurant', aye the one in the song. I'm taking 'it' back from the shaggy ones, you see. I tried not to eat too much and I didn't really. The diet's still going well. I'm under 19 stone now which is a breakthrough or something that feels akin to it. I've managed to get away from scoffing too much at nights. That must have just killed me in the past. I would go and gorge on cheese and onion pasties AND crisps AND anything else I could get ma hands on. I'm managing to hold this at bay so far. Then I started to dread work the morn. It would be miserable, I knew it. Why do I have to go back on a Sunday??! The 'positives' were not there. That was my fault. To get over these lulls I put ma back into it and I 'pulled ma socks up' as it were. Tried to get a smile forced onto my face. I met up with CH, SJ and Idles and others at D's leaving do. Sometimes in a large group I know I'll start to feel the old 'endless night' come in. It didn't. I felt happy. I enjoyed the company. I was positive, in my own fashion. CH seemed down. I tried to keep him up. I was probably just a pain in the neck. I started thinking about going to The Green Man fest in August. I was obsessed. I really want to go. Fucking debt and poverty. That won't stop me. CH wanted to go too. I tried to contrive a way to pay for tickets TODAY. It wasn't happening. I hate being skint with a' ma being. I still try to 'deny any responsibility' for getting into that state tho'. Somehow I didn't dip. I stayed happy! I was sad to see D go tho'. She's one o' thae 'honest ray o' sunshine' folk. Reliably bright and happy. I do like that a great deal you know despite murmerings to the contrary. I walked up the road wi' SJ. I was still happy. We talked about going to the May Day Beltane Fires thing the morns night. It didn't seem like 'my thing'. The idea of me running naked round fires wi' willowy students jumping aboot in the vicinity is not within ma ken. To push me away from the wispy I saw some late night carnage on the way back. I had the night before too now that I think of it. Beatings. Wall to wall pissing. It was Fountainbridge at night in full effect. I hate this area. At the same time I felt like I was missing out on 'something'. Answers on a postcard. As soon as I got 'hame' 'she' was back on ma mind..same old same old...Sunday I was back tae work right enough. I hate going back on a Sunday. It seems to be against the natural 'scheme' of things. I end up thinking re the normal folk of the world with their Sunday shags and expeditions to windswept places while I'm 'here'...etc etc. I lose ma mind so easily it seems. More and more admin stuff was going down at work. It felt like drudge writ large. Ravenous all day. Not that I gave in. I had an extra Cup-A- Soup and got on with it. Work was slower than slow. When I left I was lost. Dip in mood. Uncertain. Nae money. I wanted to go and see Odetta at The Queens Hall. Didn't want to pay the 16 brick therein. Noticed at the last minute that it was sold oot. I was relieved. I counted ma money and fretted. Wondered how I would survive on ma forthcoming holiday week if naebody gies me ticket money when I arrive. I'm going down to 2 ATP festivals this month. When I had a lot of the bank's money I got extravagant and booked chalets for them both. Naebody's going with me to the first one. I'm going to be as 'on ma ain' as can be. I'm selling the 3 tickets to folk I don't know. I'm feared that I might not get the money for them all. The arrangement is that I'm meeting the 3 folk outside the pliss and exchanging wristbands etc there. I have bad vibes re one of the folk. I've got some following up to do with this. I need that money or I'm going to be penniless on the south coast for a week. I feel nervy about it. Yet mair examples of thae chickens coming home to roost for Mcluckie I guess. I'm looking forward to going away but I know I'm going to have at least some feelings of skintness. I don't like that. For a lifelong poor person I have 'spoilt brat' tendencies re cash. I come over all 'England Is Mine, It Owes Me A Living'. To block it oot I did ma usual and went to the Cameo for a fillim. The lovely knitting lass was there. She looked amazing. She was wearing the cuddliest sweater I've ever seen. In another moment from 'normal' adolescence I decided that it even defeated the red one TLK has. (that's very sad isn't it?) The stud thing isn't in her nose after all. Its in her lip instead. I like it. I got quite excited seeing her. I even tried to go all Tracy Cox and make 'eye contact'. Somehow I avoided arrest. There are times in ma life when I wish I had an element of balls but I can't help think that lasses are going to call the police whenever I speak to them. I must get over that...or of course maybe its the truth... The head was full of the knitter. She's great. I am officially 'out of her league'. I mused on areas that I often went to in the early days of TLK ie why does the human body not have a cut off valve for yer feelings when it realises that you're extremely infatuated/ in love with/ enamored of folk who clearly/ most likely don't reciprocate this. The valve in me would be overworked. The fillim was 'Paradise Now'. It was certainly 'gripping' and made its point in economical fashion, something I like. It lead me to 'expect' a bit more at the end but I suppose it all made sense. It got muddled in the middle and a bit of plot 'exposition' was omitted for reasons unclear. This made 'one' expect a 'twist' to come into play. It didn't and I lost the thread somewhere. The normality o' most o' the terrorists was very well portrayed tho' and the 2 lead guys were pretty good, particularly the Kevin Rowland one. It's structured like a thriller which in this case works a great deal as you feel you're being drawn on and on towards the inevitable tragedy. It's well worth seeing. Most of the political argument and debate is a bit above ma heid, I'm afraid. There are corners o' the Interweb which cover the arguments therein awfy well. I liked it as a human story. That's ma kinda level. Aye a very good and a very human story then. I bet Bradshaw's quaking in his boots. Peter not Ian. I walked home in the now pissing rain. Minded the Beltane Fires thing was going on. Thought about them all getting doused up Calton Hill. Thought about posh folk painted green and with horns stuck on their heids. I thought about fun and happy revels. I wanted to be involved in them. I've always want to be involved in that. The other half of ma brain tels me it's all impossible for me to ever take part. It's done this for 35 years. It's still winning. Acht Monday. I'm not going to dwell on this for long. It was somewhat shite at work. The boss was playing silly buggers again. The work itself was tedious and uninvolving. It looks like getting busy busy before the end of the week. I couldn't be bothered with it all. My demeanour in the office probably sucked. I didn't feel massively concerned. When I got hame the hunger pangs were back. I had an extra 'low fat' veggie burger. I had some more fruit. Eventually I got out the hoose to try to quell the cravings. I think it worked. I walked to Saughton Park and back and then ate 2 Weetabix wi' a banana. I was sated and not too bloated. I didn't know what to do last night. I was on call so couldn't do much. Ended up watching snooker and thinking of £ and all the credit cards in the world sitting out there waiting for me. I was a bona fide 'crumpled man' in a bed sit with a' thae broken dreams that I'm 'supposed' to have. I appreciated the melodramatics of the situation. The awareness of them helped me to feel better. Had a chat wi' CT on the MSN. I miss the guy a gret deal. He's a true pragmatist. Like I told you before he's probably the brightest person I've ever met. These factors tend to ensure he gives you good measured advice. Tonight was no exception. Mair 'perspective' re TLK. I need all that I can muster. When I think o' CT I think aboot ma days of 'activism' a lot, of fly posting in Kdy High Street in the middle of the night and of getting busted for said 'fly posting'. We were doing things for 'the cause'. It was kinda exhilarating. One day I'll tell you the true reason why I gave it all up. You'll get a good laugh. So today. The day started with emails re twa comments on here frae one 'Mummy Caesar'. He didn't have a blog so I knew it was either spam or a gripe. It was the latter. He took exception re my go at the horrid 'Germlin'. I found it all rather heady. I thought about ma reply for most of the day. Work was a grind once again. TLK was in today. Fucking hell. She looks nicer every day I see her. I can't stress that enough. When I was talking to her I said "good lord" mid sentence a coupla times because that was all I could say. I have not met anyone like her. The way I feel when I see her is unlike any way I've felt before. I'm still stunned when I'm around her. Shit there's no way that can sound anything other than 'sleazy' coming from me. That's not the intention. She was in an almost eerily good mood. Manic in fact. This made me a mite uneasy. She was so so happy but still did the dead bat thing. We spoke about diets. She said 'the weight's dropping off you'. I do not possess the powers of description to represent how she said it but she took something that would normally be intoned in a light colloquial friendly manner and flatlined it in a monotone with a hint of the sermon. There was nothing of the personal whatsoever in there. I mean I thought she was talking about 'my' weight, maybe she was talking re what happens when folk diet. She never ceases to astound me does TLK. It was almost impossible to 'take' what she said. What did she mean? The 'friend/colleague' filter inside her had ovbviously just been switched on. Any semblence of warmth had been axed for the sake of not 'giving the wrong impression'. I was gone. I found her barrage of sunshine at all other times patronising and glib. I was annoyed at her. DROP THESE FRONTS AND SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. Mcluckie is Big Hypocrite. I went 'intae masel'. I couldn't stand being at work. I needed to get away from her. I sat all the way through another fucking team meeting. The boss was horrid. Being in the same room as TLK was driving me insane. I started the silent thing again. AM, CH, CT and KB all came into ma head. I shouldn't be doing this., They told me that and they are of course so right. I did it for a bit anyway. I felt 'off the boil'. She ploughed on regardless with the floucy positivity. I felt miserable when she spoke re the great time she'd had at the weekend. She'd been to the Beltane thing. I was alternately glad and annoyed I didn't go. I couldn't stand not being with her or being with her . I went into the kitchen away from them all and put ma head on the bunker for a while. It didn't help. I left early on reasons of impending breakdown and lightened the mood not a jot by going to arrange for yet another bank account to be started up. This was the one for the trust deed thing. I was reading about it last night. It seems like I can't fuck around with it. Lots of talk of how I could be 'sequestered' if I step out of line. The bank virtually offered me an overdaft facility straight away. I forced and forced and forced masel to turn it down. I might be breaking the law if I take on any more credit! There are times in life when you feel small. This was one of them. The clerk at the bank was an odd bumbly man who looked like John Prescott. It warmed me a little to feel the welcome absurdity flooding intae ma brain. Before that I couldn't recall anything other than ma ain ruin and TLK. At last thinks to the big shagging Labour grandee a wee light came in. It's went oot and came back on again since then. I've been at the home of Stelios for some time now. It's no a welcoming place. I nearly went to see the metal fillim at The Cameo or more correctly to see if the other 'she' is working there tonight. I couldn't make it. Been amending this post like it's ma life's work. I have a fucked self image. Part of me thinks I'm hot shit. I'm not happy with it. The post or the self image. It's shoddy. I'm hungry. I had a panini thing for ma tea. It was probably a million cals. I'm eating nothing else today. I've had very little all day. That's maybe helped my mood to dip. I feel strange. Caught oot and trapped. Not sure what to do next. At times I have the feeling underneath that it's like it's maybe no quite as bad but then I start to think that maybe it is. I'm as simple as that. My thoughts are conveyor belty. I'm coming oot wi' meaningless metaffers for 'feelin' up and feelin' down' now. It's time to go....

Aroma Of Gina Arnold

2006-04-24T10:15:00.000-07:00

Strange as it might seem...and it appeared quite odd to me...I think I had a 'settled' coupla days on Sun & Mon. Bizarre. Sunday passed so quickly. I woke up. Didn't eat any junk food. None at all. Hardly ate anything all day in fact. I could feel the pounds peeling off. It's a weird weird one. I like it. Spent all day at the work doing the admin task I mentioned the other day. It literally took forever- 15 pages worth. I kept at it. I left the work at 9.15 pm when I was suppposed to finish at 7. My mind felt rested and clear. The weather helped big time. Balmyness has always been ma vibe. I sat in the office all day with the window open and the fan going and kept plugging away wi' the drudge. The feeling when I got it finished was quite something. TLK had phoned earlier. She was on great form. We spoke for a while. I was worried by summat at work/pissed off wi' something the boss had done. TLK is always keen to talk re work probs and so she did..at some length. I enjoy having easy conversation with her. The state of ma heid of late has helped to make things awfy stilted between us. TLK always uses the deadest of dead bats so she would never comment on it but I've been an erse wi' her. She knows it too but she doesn't provide comment on such things (Does that still annoy me?? Aye it does but it's clearly something I just have to put up with. There is nothing more to it than that) Anyway, I felt at ease while talking to her. She's a very good 'conversationalist'. The boss had left a 'see me' note. I panicked for 5 minutes but it didn't really matter. I realised that panic can fade after all! I must remember that. I felt good all day. Monday seemed like more of the same...but with more TLK. There are times when it astounds me how attracted to her I still am. Today was one of those days. She was scuffed looking, tousled. I'd been summoned to see the boss before she arrived. As usual it was a nothing that had been 'formalised' and blown up into an anxiety provoking 'something'. When she got in she was interested in how it went. We went outside and chatted about it. We used to do this all the time 'in the old days'. We sat in the sunshine or more correctly leant against the bannister oot the back, just above her rusty old bike which, I believe, has sat there for 2 years. I noticed the furrows on her brow. They were deep and pronounced. They looked like the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. She was bleary eyed. Hungover. Flushed. Being there with her felt like I was in another cinematic moment. She does that to me. There is 'something' about her, about the way she looks, that I'll never be able to convey correctly to anyone. I would like to keep trying but it probably doesn't do me that much good to do so...perhaps later... I thought about her all day. I know I've described this to you many times but on Mon it didn't seem like a negative thing to be doing at all. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't...hell... Didn't know what to do after work. For all that it mattered it was pay day. Shit man, I know there are folk far worse off than me in terms o' monthly wage but £1032 for what I know to be usually a months hard work in one way or another is not really what I would call a 'rewarding' or 'fair' wage by todays standards. Add to that the totally draconian attitude towards paid overtime or double time on public holidays or anything like that and I want to name and shame, I really do. Also I would be surprised if the many 'suits' employed by the Association were skint after a day or two, and that really hurts. I owed ma mum money so wi' these thoughts on ma mind I dragged masel through tae Fife. It seems an ddd thing to say but for a long time I would never visit mother on a Monday as she tends to have 1 or 2 of her pals visiting. It's a horrid scene. They take over the house completely. A card table gets plonked in the middle of the room. They used to play Yahtzee but now it's some numbers 'only available from Admail 77' gash called Rummikub. They play loudly with constant running commentary. The manner of conversation is not relaxed. It's OTT. Forced. Unreal. Surreal too. The sound and 'the knockon effects' to me of 3 60-something women shouting 'Yahtzee' on a freezing Monday afternoon while I was 'going insane' in my bedroom in a shit town is not something I ever want to relive. Anyway, my folks have never done anything together. My dad sits and sleeps in his chair in the living room when he's in. Mum sits edgily in the kitchen and reads or knits. When somebody wants to watch TV there is always a big hoo-hah about it. For one of the kindest people alive mother has an odd side to her whereby she can get very 'niggly' with certain triggers. One of them is noise. She can't stand having the telly up at audible level. Whenever father turns it up so he can hear it you can see her look across and an air of tension takes hold. The volume eventually goes down after a 'heated exchange'. If it goes up again a little bit because somebody can't hear it mother will normally leave the room saying that she can't sit there with that 'screaming' going on. You'll often see mother put the telly on and sit and stare at it with the sound off. She'll pass comment (negatively) on whats going on and inquire with you what's happening. I'll say to her 'do you want the sound on'? 'Matter of factly she'll reply, 'no its ok'. This irritates me. So why did you put it on? Seemingly just to make comments as to how this or that looks 'weird'. As I've mentioned before mother dislikes most things, normally in a kneejerk fashion. If you think I'm a negative bastard, I'm sorry but there's no doubting where I got the instinct from. Of course it's up to me to change 'my ways'. It seems at times that there are certain things that get so ingrained into you it becomes almost impossible to stop them. Defeatism is in ma 'genes' too...natch...Dad doesn't really have any friends as such so whenever mum's pals visit things get very territorial. They're not used to the 'disturbance' caused by visitors to the living room. Normally mums other pals stay in the kitchen while father crashes out in comfort. In recent years it has been decided that mum's pastime playing pals visit on Mondays so dad normally has to get out of the way. This is a rare concession from him. Again her pals are nice folk but they get a little 'too much' to take on board at one time. One of them comunicates exclusively in cackles. It's very disconcerting. You don't get the feeling she ever listens to you. She affects mother too. Mum starts acting like her. Everythings a massive to-do. Whatever you say gets scrutinised and has negative vibes applied to it. Mother is not a confident person. She gets totally intimidated by other folk. She can genuinely NEVER be 'herself'. Seeing her act differently to how she is when she's on her own with you is an experience I will always find totally deflating. Mainly because I'm like that too. Her other pal is nicer. She's a 'nice wee wife' (a knowledge of the Fife dialect is probably required to fully appreciate the meaning of that) frae Ballingry. Nowhere near as judgemental as the cackler. She does listen to you a wee bit and mum tends to be far more relaxed when the 'wee wife' is there and the cackler ain't. This doesn't happen very often. Anyway...I went headlong into this scene. I gave mother her money and I just wanted to go. The cackler left so I stayed a bit longer. Mother gets older every time I see her. It scares me a little. For the last few years she's had one health problem after another. They don't show much sign of slowing down. She wasn't right on Monday. We talked for a while. Her anxieties get worse when she's physically unwell. She was wound up. I tried to help her by listening. I'm not sure it worked. I left feeling down. I'm worried about her. For the most part she drives me nuts but I still love her. She loves me. That's a nice thing to know.
Tuesday was worthy for two things only. I was on a late shift. I was in the shower at 9.15 when the phone went. I let it ring. I checked it when I got back to the 'living area' in the s-h. It was TLK. She'd left a message. It turned out to be 4 or so minutes of mixed wooshing and distortion. It was the sound of TLK going to work. It was an oddly riveting thing to listen to. It had come from her phone but it could have been anyone at all. A random combination o' buttons being pressed on an unlocked phone. I pondered re why out of a' the folk on her phone it had rang me. What did it 'mean'? My number was saved in her phone. Somehow me being me I was bouyed by this. She hadn't deleted me. I managed to turn it round a tad later and it dawned on me that this was just the latest example of me being unable to 'get over her' and it was not 'wholly positive' after all...mmm...the usual team meeting took place later. I hate these things. I was hating this one too. I got pissed off at something and cracked a sarky joke. She laughed. I turned around. She was beaming straight at me. I've mentioned this before but when she gives you a genuine smile or she laughs then her eyes glisten and her whole face erupts in what looks like the essence of pure happiness. It's an incredible sight. There's something totally 'natural' about it. I don't think it'll be possible for me to ever forget this sight...so there... Wed I woke up wi' a lot of feelings o' paranoia. They were on me right away. I lay there in the 'living area'. I thought about the trust deed thing. I thought about the scrutiny that would come from it. I was sure something would go wrong. The TOT came back. It raced away in front of me. I could work out what was going to happen. I could see the road to ruin. I couldn't face it. It wouldn't go away. I didn't want to go anywhere. I thought if I stayed in bed it would eventually go away. It didn't. I thought it was best to go to the work. It ended up hanging around all day and it's not went away yet. I could see every negative thing that could happen in the future. I piled up all the pieces of circumstance or chance that could affect the way my future turns out. They were all bad. I couldn't shake it off. I've ended up doing what I usually do when I have the TOT. I tough it out. There is no 'coping strategy' that significantly helps. I just have to drown out the thoughts and force masel to ignore them. There's no other option. I can't remember much about Wednesday apart from that. I could give you more TLK but I'll hold that for the moment. I'll give you an update on the diet. It's going very very well so far. It looks like I may have lost something approaching a stone in the last 2 weeks! I feel lighter already. I've been quite full on with it. Not sure where I've found the 'willpower' from but I've not had anything particularly fatty for nigh on a week now. For a few days I lived on nothing more than cup a soups and apples. I've been walking everywhere and getting a good bit of exercise. I feel hungry at times and I've felt a bit tired over the last coupla days. This has made me cut back on the exercise front but I've still managed to get in a good bit more than I used to. I'm really trying. I'm fed up being fat. Most of ma pairs of trousers seem to be falling down. I think I'm doing ok on the diet front. On Wed I stayed behind at the work again, this time to make amendments to the admin thing as requested by our glorious leader. Part of me quite likes all the paper chase stuff. I get into it a fair bit. Not sure I 'enjoy' it as such but I feel oddly compelled to finish it. I lack motivation to finish most other tasks at work or in life- ha. Why 'clerical tasks appeal to me, I'm not sure...make of that what you will. 'Office tasks' and paranoia are not that nice a combo. I had them at large on Wed night. I don't recommend it....on that note...Thur...
It was still there. I could feel it. The endless ruminating over shit.I pictured the worst happening. It was horrible. There was a particular reason for it. Maybe one day I'll share it with you. I don't think I can right now. I felt somewhat weighed down by all of these internals. Not unusual for me. Part of me seems able to function through it. That's something, I guess. I sleepwalked through work. I got a bit o' cheer re the absence of freezing cold biting winds. I thought they would never go away but maybe they have. It is indeed a miracle. A nice bit o' warmth is never a bad thing. Thursday night I met CH and D at the Mosque again. I love this place. It's rustic alright. It's frequently overrun by pigeons and whenever a few of them appear a guy comes out the kitchen and bangs a big stick off the walls. This keeps them at bay for all of 5 minutes. Lovely nosh tho'...for £3. Magnificent. D is a pal of CH's who I got to know through music circles. She's a lovely person. Very droll. Bright. Nothing much seems to get to her. She's a positive person. I often forget what that means as well as how nice it is to be around one of them. D's heading down south soon. This is a real shimm. She will be missed. Later on we went to see Silver Jews at the Bongo Club. The SJ's are possibly the most legendary of US undergroundy bands. They are effectively the work of poet/singer/ guru etc etc David Berman. This guy has been adopted as an uber figure by most members of the (Glaswegian) indie fraternity . He hadn't done any live shows til earlier this year despite being 'a legend' since time began. Acht, I didnae enjoy them at all. Probably my fault really...or a misunderstanding at least. I remember hearing 'The Arizona Record' years and years ago. It was the lowest of lo-fi. I liked it a great deal. I wanted a bit of introspection and despair but it turned out that I got showy 'eccentric' wordplay backed by the sound of indie rock instead. I didn't want to hear that. The band as well as being 'indie sounding' just provide 'too much' in the way of noise and interference and clutter complete with 3 guitars. You couldn't really hear what the shaman was saying. He was buried in needless scree. The sound guy appeared to be Steve West who used to be the drummer of Pavement and his approach was to crank 'awhong' up to the max. This may have been fun but it wasn't 'appropriate' imo. Everything they did sounded the same. No really. It was awfy safe too. Catchy enough. Straight enough. Not much in the way of grit and stickyness. Maybe if Berman had played on his own you would have got mair of an idea what he was about but on this showing he came across like a vaguely Catweazley 30/40 something who sounded even more like Lou Reed than Stephen Malkmus does/a wee bit like Neil Diamond on a bad night. Maybe a true understanding of their oeuvre would have helped but I was just lost. They went down a storm but they'll go down far better in Glasgow obviously. Alasdair 'Ali' Roberts was excellent however. I last saw him playing live years ago. Then he seemed hamstrung by a peculiar hangup on Will Oldham. It got into his voice, his songs, it was everywhere. Now he's found his own voice and it shows. He comes across like a bona fide wandering folk minstrel now, all beguiling tales and mysterious turns o' phrase. His voice is way way stronger. It manages to tell his stories with some light and shade. His music is strangely intoxicating. His guitar playing has come on many country miles too. He comes up with spidery, wandering lines to go with his broken melodies. He looks like he's not had a good meal in some years. He seems all the better for it. Later, I couldn't summon up any enthusiasm for the SJ's. I hope I never got anyone down while we were ootside. They'd all had a great time. Shit, I can be an arsehole...sorry...Today's been a bit odd. Feel awfy drained. Just looked at ma bank balance too. I can't stand being skint. I could when I was on the dole but when I'm working I somehow don't expect to be struggling. I resent it. That's where all the credit card shit came into play. I'm hoping to get a few extra shifts wi' the agency I applied to last week. My disclosure came back at the start of the week. There was nowt on it as there wouldn't be of course, but I feel a bit freaked that they haven't contacted me yet. Maybe they've 'discovered' something I don't know about. That's one of the things that's been going through ma mind. Relentless paranoia about 'exaggerated' situations and scenarios. Never let yersels get into this state kids ok. Today I went and arranged to start up ANOTHER bank account prior to the trust deed thing happening. I've got an appt for that next week. I feel really panicky about it...fuck...so I'm in the land of the interweb. the couple who talk to each other like 'domestic tabbys' are back. I'm not a great fan of ridiculous ways of speaking! Maybe they actually talk like that. 'Jack Daw' is belting it out once again next door. He's goin' all Jim Diamond on yo' ass. By the sounds of it all the post-work crowd are going ber-serk. While I listen to it it's dawned on me that I have a feeling like something awful is about to happen. That's the honest truth. I look around me and see folk going aboot their day to day stuff and laughing and joking. I can't relate to that. It confuses me why they would be like that. I'm back into the social pariah mode I've felt masel to be in so many times. It would take me a long time to spell out to you why I feel like this. Maybe I will one day...or then again maybe not...ha...At least I'm thinner...

Martin Beavis Worked For The Cooncil

2006-04-21T12:07:00.000-07:00

So Friday I wandered aboot for a good while. I was looking for some o' Bert's 'cold- blooded clarity'. I ended up searching in Hollyrood Park. As a wee aside, I discovered that you can't take the Kirkcaldy out of the man. Before I wrote 'Holyrood' just now I had the word 'Ravenscraig' in there almost automatically. That's the name of the less popular but undoubtedly nicer of the 2 public parks in Kirkcaldy. Oops. I thought of climbing up the old Crags but looked at my papery Shoezone shoes and surmised that I would most likely require an airlift sometime later if I went up there today or maybe I was just being a lazy bam. I thought better of it and circled the wee loch for a while. There were millions and millions of swans there. A laddie of 4 or so shouted oot "dinnae go near them. You'll get that bird flu". Aye the Daily Record has done it's work alright. I sat at the waterside. Good vibes came in. The sun started to get warmer. It was nice. Even the presence of a number of couples strolling hand in hand couldn't get me down. I thought of the story AM told me the other night re the time David Quantick got stuck up Arthur's Seat and required an airlift to get him down. I thought of the day I climbed one o' the Lomond Hills wi' the KB family. I even thought of non-negative TLK memories, in particular the day she beamed at me inexplicably in the kitchen at the work. I've never seen anything quite like that- and I probably won't see anything like that again but I didn't dwell on that aspect of it at all. I thought of the day I met Laura Ballance. She beamed at me too. That was also great. I minded the unique feeling I get from sitting and watching a gemme o' cricket. I recalled the time on the only family holiday I had (9 ah wiz) when I couldn't stop giggling as my dad kept referring to there being 'a vile smile' afoot. I thought HAPPY THINGS. Here comes the glibness again but I truly did have a physical sensation of happiness for the first time in so long. I was about to say 'a year' but I thought that would have sounded too keech and too TLK-centric. In this mode I headed up to meet CH and Idles. Idles is a true original. I would love to describe her to you..and let me assure you I have tried. Quite simply I can't do her justice. I'll keep trying because she's worth hearing about. Idles went off to do 'girly' things. Her phrase and not mine of course. I had a guid chat wi' CH. He was doon. I tried to do what I could. He didn't tell me to getafuyabassa which was hopefully a good sign. If CH hadnae been in the city over the last year then I probably would have given up 'totally' instead of 'just a bit'. He's a great man and he deserves some guidness to come his way. I want a great deal of that for him. We visited the Rowley approved Elephant Hoose up on George IV Bridge. This is a fine fine pliss especially now that the non-smokers aren't just squeezed into the 2 or 3 tables at the front. A rosy cheeked Olivia Williams lookalike was working there. My mood lifted further. We then took a gamboll oot intae the sunshine. The weather was magnificent. We headed through The Meadows. I felt like I was living in the city, like I had arrived. If I was in Kinghorn right now I would only be 'stuck to my couch back east depressed'. The contrast today stunned me. I felt thin and fit. Even if I wasn't really that thin it didn't matter. Goodness abounded. A willowy lass sat up in a tree while her 'buff' man huffed and puffed underneath generally struggling to scale it. He eventually had to get somebody to give him a leg up! Once he was up there he tried to go higher and higher to 'redress the balance' wi' his missus. She sat there impassively. Magnificent. Come to The Meadows and watch...The Battle Of The Sexes AS WELL AS The Class Struggle. I loved this. EVEN THE VIRILL FAIL. This was indeed the cold blooded clarity I was looking for. You definately wouldn't see this in Kirkcaldy either. Over there it's only wee bastards who climb trees, not 'comfortable couples' and they don't do it for reasons of athletic endeavour they do it to 'chorr' stuff or as a pliss to throw things from. Yet more big city bona fidery. Fantastic. While we were sitting there I got the courage up to txt TLK. I just kept it to the very very basics. I got CH to vet it for me. She replied a short while later. It was a nice reply. I gave masel an eyeopener afterwards. I felt wholly positive at first then I started in with my usual shit. I thought of her closing line. It said " see you Monday!". Before I knew it I was ranting to CH along the lines of " You see man, there you go. That's another example of how she tries to point out that it's a colleague only thing now. She's pointing out there that under no circumstances will I be up for going for a pint with you...just in case you were testing the waters wi' that txt" or crap to that effect. I soon realised I was spouting insanity. I forced masel to file it away purely as something I can learn from. The realisation that I've been doing this kinda thing for some time hit me. Leaving insanity aside she is very good at effectively setting 'boundaries' on things while not addressing them directly. I know that but it's me that's thinking all the time re meeting up with her and the mechanics of that simply because I want that. She's not thinking in the same arc at all. I keep making out that she's trying to point things out to me, trying to hint at stuff. I mean maybe she is on occasion but then again I'm sitting there analysing every contact we have and looking out for all this. By nature humans find it difficult to communicate with each other. She can't or doesn't say things directly? Well really in this context it shoudn't matter. I still wish she did because we are very different people and it generally makes getting along wi' folk easier if you know where you stand. Of course this ain't gonna happen with most folk. I have to accept that. I have a lot of improvements of my own to make when it comes to communication too. I'm not always that honest either and it ends up causing me a lot of pain and a' that. The time I've wasted recently in getting wound up and blaming TLK for ma problems could have been spent elsewhere. That's the bottom line. I can't let masel forget that. I hope I've not upset her. I don't think I have. I've been an idiot a few times when in my head I thought she was being 'inconsistent'. I became pretty obsessed really. I've been trying to avoid thinking about that. I must have come across to you as a madman. Fuck man. I think about it all now. I still can't believe what happened. How I finally met somebody I had strong feelings about and then a made an erse o' masel over them and 'associated issues'. I don't yet believe I'm a total idiot. I've not done anything too bad (!). I have to put it behind me and learn. As for my feelings for her? well they're still there. I don't think they're likely to fade for some time. She is the only person I've been 'in love' with and all that entails for me in 35 years. When I met her I realised I had feelings that I thought I was incapable of. That was kinda nice in it's way. I now have to work on rebuilding and reworking masel. I have to do it, that's for sure. I think a change of scenary will help. I keep looking out for jobs. I've got a coupla application forms in the s-h. I have to work hard and 'extend masel'. I almost think I can do it...eek... so after a short interlude the good vibes went on. Went wi' CH to the emerging legend that is The Mosque Kitchen. This is a rough and ready pliss at the back of the big mosque (funnily enough) deep in student land. It does rather nice large portions of basic and tasty curries and daals etc for £3. They don't have forks. YOu take yer spoon and yer paper plate and sit outside the kitchen on plastic seats under a rickety canopy thing. 'The dirty pigeons' come and go all around you. I'm sure it defies certain rules under the jurisdiction of Edinburgh Council etc etc but it is a great pliss. Once again it seems like summat you would do exclusively in the big city. It seems like a pliss 'known only by locals'. I love that feeling. I've always felt like I'm outside of things. I used to get intimidated and kinda jealous seeing folk in the big shitty. They strolled about all day. They weren't thinking re the times of the last bus and where everything was .They knew instinctively. You would hear references to legendary places which seemed inaccessible. Now I know about a few of them. It's a whacky kind of empowerment. Tomorrow ma hair will grow shaggy and I'll start 'popping' Alice, doin' ma PHD and flicking ma fringe back outside Favorit. There are times when I genuinely love the big city. These feelings only come when I am not in Gorgie/Dalry. I must get out of there...wanted to keep up the niceness and remain out of G/D so I resorted to ma usual preference and went to a fillim. The only one to stick out was 'New York Doll' at The Cameo. I decided to go for it. I tried not to think of the fact that 'Sir' Bob (I've disliked him intensely ever since he said that he admired Thatcher. Some things are unforgivable to me, I'm afraid. I saw the old bag on the telly the other day. She was droning on re how much she loved the queen. She seemed to have slowed down considerably. Hopefully she'll be gone soon. As I've said before, the bunting will fly outside the s-h on that day) and the horrid Chrissie Hynde are 'in it'. It might seem odd to say but The NYD's are a band I've never really heard to any great degree. They certainly don't 'mean' a great deal to me. Their music sounds pretty (I can't believe I'm going to say this) 'rocking' whenever I stumble across it. I can see that they massively influenced most bands of the Poison/Cinderella persuasion. I know that the frequently tiresome Morrissey is their number 1 fan. The trailers for this fillim looked ok despite the presence of the aforementioned saviour of the world and other big name consciences. I headed in. The Cameo always seems a nicer pliss when the dark haired lass who sits at the front desk doing her knitting is there. This is another example of boho cosmopolitan life. Folk are minded to do kooky things and they don't get self conscious about doing them. They're in an environment where they know it'll be accepted and won't be referred to in a negative way. This just wouldn't happen in Fife. Shit what a lovely lass she is. Warm. Intelligent. Peircing eyes. Nose ring. Tousled in a fetching and non 'shaggy' way. 'European'. Quirky. Man, I wish I was 5 stone lighter, had hair and was currently studying for a postgrad in glaciology. Then I would...still just sit and dream about her but I might feel a bit more 'legitimate' re doing it...Sigh. The fillim turned oot to be certainly entertaining and almost very guid despite initial uncertainty. It wasn't a great one imo tho'. It had chunks of standard 'rock doc' fare but somehow came through mainly because of Arthur himself. He seemed like a 'real' human being. I would have loved to have seen more of him and learned about his 'lost years'. It didn't go into any great depth at all on these. This lack of depth was a factor in making it like another instalment of 'Classic Albums' or 'Rock Family Trees'. There is way too much reliance on interview footage. These are mostly dull and superfluous. It's not an incisive or probing fillim and it doesn't seem to take any partcular viewpoint or adopt any style. It was probably directed by a robot or a Windows 'Direct A Doc' program. I don't want to put you off totally tho'. I'll repeat that it gets there because of Arthur himself. He had a varied life and you can tell that. He saw many highs and lows. There are a number of telling moments particularly in the scenes re his relationship with the highly grizzled David Johansen. These give you a welcome flavour of his inner workings. Gelders was tolerable and Hynde was quite personable in fact. Morrissey didn't seem like a pompous fool as he usually does in interviews, probably because he wasn't talking about himself. I always enjoy hearing the quote he allegedly made some time ago re Brett Anderson however. He said "I have no desire to meet Brett Anderson. He seems to be a deeply boring young man with Mr. Kipling crumbs in his bed". Word. 'Killer' himself was kinda riveting. I'm sure the fillim could have mined the sadness of his life a lot more. It would have been a better and more rounded one if they'd done so. As it was it comes across as a bit of a 'for fans only' thing. It can't really make up it's mind what it is. There is far too much footage of the Dolls themselves in action and not enough Arthur. Maybe I'm being harsh as the stuff from the Meltdown thing seems solid and they're clearly having a guid time along with awbody else. It took a while to dawn on me that the drummer playing at the gig was in fact him from The Libertines tho'. Crazy shit. There's a great bit towards the end when A'K'K leads the group in prayer before they go on stage. This is sad and touching and seemed to catch a lot of what a gentle guy he really was. Anyway, it's a flawed fillim but definately a fun and at times a nicely bittersweet one. Worth seeing. Felt quite relaxed last night. I'd had a feeling that I would spend Friday in knots over TLK. I had the odd pang but thankfully I survived. I'll just keep having to 'redirect' masel whenever I think about her. Good lord...So Saturday then. Drifted in the morning. I had my usual waves of thoughts about 'her' but managed to deal with them fairly nicely. I got an application form through the post today. It had 'out of my league' written all over it. It looked like a suit and tie job. The money was great. I began to feel the word 'limitation' writ large. I'm good for nothing etc. The instinct when I feel like this is to start eating the junk food and wallow. I didn't do that. I had 2 Weetabix wi' a banana (sans sugar) and then walked down to ma work (2 miles approx). I felt proud o' masel. I walked through TLK country too. I could feel thae memories and associations waiting to pounce but I didn't let them in. I kept on walking. I went down to get money from petty cash that I thought would have been waiting for me. It wasn't. KS was there. She lent me a tenner instead! She's a lovely lovely person. We talked for a while. I told her about the double personality clash at the training course the other day. We had a good laugh about it. I confessed my mental block re SVQ stuff to her. She understood. I felt good. Clear. Bright. I mentioned the efforts to lose weight. I described how I was trying to get ma act together. I said "I'm sorry for being an arsehole to folk lately". I meant it. She said "you've not been an arsehole to me". I said "I think I have been with everyone else". I didn't catch her reply. I think she knows the score with TLK and me. TLK talks to her. I intend to try hard to stop the silences and the atmosphere whenever TLK comes in. I've not been enjoying ma work for a while. I'm sure it's pissed some folk off. I've been 'prone' to negativity...no shit?... Part of me doesn't care but I need to force masel to care. I need to start being consistent both with others and to masel. I don't like this preachy tone. I'm changing the subject. I spent a good while in the land o' the Interweb today. I met CH and had a cuppa at the Museum. They charged me £2.50 for a cup of Earl Gray tea. I queried it. She said something about them being 'special bags'. In ma life I've heard of 'special cheese' (answers on a postcard. I'll answer any queries if you ask me) but never 'special bags'. Odd. That sort o' thing wouldnae happen in Fife either....so it's Sat aft. Some woozy music is leaking oot o' a distant pair o' headphones. I like it whatever it is. I'm thinking o' a few things. I'm hacked off at the use of a Vashti Bunyan song in an advert for mobile phones that I've seen at the pictures a few times this week. What do folk think aboot when they give permission for their songs to be used to sell comestibles? That's a rhetorical question. Whenever I like a tune, I'm no that keen on it being 'pinched' for the purpose o' flogging some plastic to schemies. The VB number on the ad sounds surreal in context when you see it. Maybe millions of folk will hear her music. That's a slightly nicer prospect...kinda. I'm peeved at hearing it 'misappropriated'. Maybe she needed a few bob. I'll see her play in a few weeks. I'm still looking forward to it. Can you request that somebody doesn't play a certain song? There's another tune that I've heard at the pictures this week. It's the soundtrack tae an advert for a skateboarding prog on Sky. Young Brad loops the loop to the sound of one finger piano and Newsom-esque side of the mouth swooping. It's a nice wee song that starts wi' a line about how 'they built a city just for us or after us' or something. Anyone got any ideas who it's by? It's from the Cocorosie school but it ain't them. It sounds a bit like what I mind Faun Fables to be like but it's nowhere near obscure enough to be them/her. It might be one o' these generic major label imitators of current artists that pop up now and again. It's maybe Katie Melua. Fuck knows. Anyone ken? I'm thinking o' the guy ootside the pub in Gorgie when I walked past last night. He said loudly "oh aye, well that'll be the same for the fudge won't it?" I'm sure it will. I'm thinking o' the pro lifers who were standing on Princes Street wi' their placards the day. I wasn't sure who they were 'til I noticed a woman with a 'brethren' scarf. That gave the game away somewhat. They needn't have bothered by the looks of it. They got ignored. I feel that's a just response. After the last post I've been thinking o' Thursday mornings. I have a history wi' them. When I was off ma heid in Templehall I used to meet my mother every Thursday in Kirkcaldy when she came in for weekly shopping. I didn't have a washing machine at the time. She was doing it for me. I took doon ma Tesco 'Bag For Life' wi' the Tropical Fruit on it and she gave me the finished articles. I would borrow cash frae her tae. I had to drag masel out o' bed to meet her. More often than not it was raining. Kdy can look hellish grim (at times). We would walk through The Postings Shopping Centre(!). There was always a stink of fish frae Massyoassys' (their actual name is simply unpronouncable and unspellable without days of research) Fish...and Wholefoods emporium. The number of cheap shit shops (shops in Kdy appear to be owned by seedy Eddie Clockerty-esque males, most of them called Josh Canard) grew and grew weekly...an engravers, a hoover repair shop, a 'fat lady's shop' (my mum's phrase), a Vettriano et al print seller and my personal favourite, a knackered second hand book store where my mother would go and exchange her Mills and Boons (she only liked a certain kind. No Betty Neels or 'period romance'. Nothing too flouncy. Her tastes in most things are spartan ie she doesn't like anything. I might explore that with you at one point)ran by a defeated woman frae Templehall. She was, as my mother would say, 'right Kirkcaldy'. This is mum's shorthand for common as muck, brassy,bolshy and/or indiscreet. This person had suffered all the misfortune Kdy had to offer. A string of husbands. Ongoing hospitalisation. A thousand bairns. A billion fags. Whole 'Welcome To Tenerife' tankards of booze and madness. There was plenty to choose what to sink yer heart with when you went in there on those Thursdays. "How are you the day hen?" ..slow speech...measured yet strident voice..."Aye, my sisters' bad wi' the jaundies and I've got a strangulated hernia tae. My laddies up in the coort the morn and I've got to get up tae Lumphinnans the night to see ma mother wi' her bad chist" Relentless misery. "Have you got any o' thae ones?". She never did. I can't understand mother. She likes NOTHING. She only wants to read something 100% like the one she read the other day. It's 'escapism' she would say. She was 'feared' to read the paper or watch the news. She went to great lengths to avoid them. She was bored and restless at times because she had no interests. She likes one genre of fillims only ie US romantic comedies. I've seen them all- 'Pretty Woman', 'Green Card', 'Maid In Manhattan'. The whole shebang. ALl other fillims are 'weird'. We used to fall out regularly when there was a video shop in Kinghorn. I went down to get a fillim. Beforehand she would say "just get anyhting" but if she didn't like the sound of it she wouldn't watch it. Mum, I got you 'Gorillas In The Mist'. "There's nae gorillas in it are there? You ken I dinnae like that shite wi' animals and that'. The examples are endless...I think they're for another day...I'm here. It's the springtime. I think I feel ok tho' I do feel lonely. I'll give you a bit of DT to finish off. I miss him. "How are you the day?" "Ocht. no too bad. Not top of the form but no too bad"...aye...

Take Me Back To The Mumbles Road

2006-04-18T15:49:00.000-07:00

...Tue night...Forgot tae mention it but I just minded re summat which happened earlier on, just in case I hadn't rammed hame 'the point' re ma 'madness' enough. We had a team meeting thing at work. I hate them. Probably because I end up being divvied up mair work but mostly cause they remind me how shite the work (and the TLK at work situ) is. TLK will sit across frae me. I 'have to' look at her all the time. Sometimes I can't. The work tensions come in to play at these meeting ie the office politics thing. Fucking nonsense. Today I was sitting across from her again. She was talking away in a clipped manner. I'm going to sound horrid here. I realised how much of a front she puts on. I know because I do exactly the same thing masel. All human beings do. It's how you cover it up that matters. It hit me suddenly. Here we are sittting here both putting on guises. She was battering head long into TLK at work mode by now- uniquely remote, aloof, outwardly composed, civil, professional. All of a suddden I found it awfy funny. The whole scene. I couldn't stop laughing. She asked me what was up. I said I don't know. I kept laughing. She asked me again. She added, '"you're starting to freak me out now" in a mock pally style. This time I said "I'm internalising. If I told you it would be giving too much away". Not sure why that came out. Well it was the truth after all. I kept laughing. She kept up the pally stuff. I thought I'd better stop. I was aboot to greet anyway. This all came back tonight when a dready lass started laughing during 'Anticipation Of The Night'. The Filmhoose pit it on as a double bill with my beloved 'Blue'. 'AOTN' is a 40-odd minute 'avant garde' silent film by the kinda legendary Stan Brakhage featuring endlessly flailing Super 8 images, a guid few of them looped almost ad nauseam , magnetic town lights at night visuals and loads of flamingos, bears and bairns, a' shot in a style which eventually was to be seen in every video they played on that much loved (by me..and a few folk frae Leven) 'Transmission' programme presented by Pat 'The Jazz Butcher' Fish and a proto 'UIG' (Unfeasibly Indie Girl in case you should ask. Just come along to ATP, stand by that dance machine thing for a while and you'll see what I mean) in the late 80's- woozy, blurry, cost 5p ie the 'pop' video equivalent of a 'fleabag apartment, you know the kind'. Of course 'AOTN' was filmed in 1962 and retains 'un certain cache`' in thae avant gardie circles. I would doubt if many things looked like this in 1962. There are times when ma world has looked like this minus the bears, flamingos or bairns tho'. Once you got over the self conscious stuff of sitting in the silent dark and hearing all the sounds therein ie the toffs up the back tutting and talking to each other, the various odd sounds from the cinema next door and the aforementioned giggles you realised how nice it was to be in a space where your mind could run wild. The images fly at you. The fililm is always on the move in one or another. I suppose it's one that is totally up to you to work out and to use in yer ain way and for me that was the fun and the enjoyment of it. A' the wooze made me think o' what happens when I would close my yaks in Kirkcaldy 'in the old days' and the world didn't go away. What I had was a refracted and mair grotesque version thereof. A slightly nicer world was 'represented' here tho' there were still times when it was an empty and lonely one. Some of the stuff near the end which featured an unhappy flamingo flapping around with it's head out of shot was bloodcurdling ditto the bear in darkness bit at the end. I loved how it let you go off on your own thing with the smallest trigger frae the screen. It would be nice if most fillims were like this but that ain't the case. Not sure that the folk there knew what they were getting into. A certain discombobulation was evident. Plenty o' chatter and 'fuck you Jeremy' behaviour. When the boho couple (the lasses' man soon got them too) wi' the giggles next to me sat doon, a horrid stench o' semi digested wine filled the row. Fuck knows what they'd been drinking. Probably the semi-mythical 'gutrot wine' Bukowski talks aboot. Wine breath is a nasty thing. Ain't it funny how such a supposedly 'refined' drink gies off a worse bowf after consumption than simple grog. The lass in the couple opened up a pack o' crisps just after 'Blue' started. I think she had them mic'd up. Major rustling went on all the way through the first half. It was a crackly old print o' the fillim, no the best for one wi' nothing but sound and the volume level was low so it proved hard at first to zone into the vibe. The prog had advertised a 10 minute interval between the 2 fillims which didn't materialise. This caught awbody unawares. The stream of plummy bastards going in and out of the cinema detracted frae what you were trying to pay attention to. Let's face it, to get ANYTHING frae 'Blue', you have to concentrate. Ha! A popcorn movie it ain't. I sat there .You say to the boy open your eyes. When he opens his eyes and sees the light. You make him cry out. Saying O Blue come forth O Blue arise O Blue ascend O Blue come in. I was in right away. Never mind the outside world. At times I shut ma yaks. At others I stared into the blueness. My vision was tired frae staring intently at the Brakhage frenzy earlier. It was just right. There was a major 'something' to be had frae sitting in the dark listening to this outpouring of a man's fears, hopes, memories, pain...to hear something of this nature expressed so vividly and so uniqely was a privilege. I was gripped by it. On and on it went. The image is a prison of the soul, your heredity, your education, your vices and aspirations, your qualities, your psychological world. and If the doors of perception were cleansed then everything would be seen as it is. Fucking hell. Loss. Love. Madness. Thought. Fantasy. LIFE LIFE LIFE. JOY. It's all here. It's all as powerful as it was when I saw it in my folk's back room on a Sunday night just after DJ died. The space and the scope supplied by the lack of pictures leave you with room to make your own visuals. If you look at the blue it does quickly make it's way into your head. I have walked behind the sky. For Blue there are no boundaries or solutions. Jeez. There are certain times when I simply wish I had mair words. An intellectual I am clearly not. I'm sure it can be handy to have a bit more at your fingertips from time to time. I didnae feel that guid on Tues. I sat in the cinema getting pissed off before the fillims wi' all the chattering classes, their confidence, their ability to grab life and seemingly to not care when they make arses o' themselves. Two hetero couples up the back (that fucking speeshiss) were talking loudly almost a' the time. I could hear them coming into the cinema. There was an audible sigh frae one o' them when he realised 'AOTN' was a silent. On the way oot I heard him telling one o' the Jemimas he was with that 'Blue' was 'impersonal'. I shouldn't be fixating on folk's 'negative sides' but I 'couldnae' shake it off on Tuesday so that clearly means I have to rake it up over and over again. At times my reactions, for the most internal, to people aren't good. For a long time I could hide it. There are certain,shall we say, affectations that I dislike. I won't outline them here. You've had plenty of chances to work them out already. A further example had been provided by yet another fucking COUPLE who had been sitting in front of me. 'He' reacted with delight on working out that the double bill consisted o' a fillim with no images and a fillim with only images '. He of course sounded like my lifelong enemy Lloyd Cole. I wanted to lean over and say either " Yeeah, are you The Rebel?" or "Yeeaahh, did you write 16 Years Of Alcohol?"..Fucking privilege. It's everywhere, carrying complacency, elitism et al in it's Pimmsy wake as well as me seething mad behind them desperate to 'fuck shit up'. but saying nothing cause I am a nothing...and so forth...well anyway... Wednesday...TLK stuff is currently marring the work experience somewhat. Knew today would be busy. I'm involved in a MAMMOTH admin task. It is taking forever. It's bogging me down further. Had a word wi' the boss yesterday. She'd been off sick for some time. In the interim I had come out wi' that post 'falling out wi' TLK' outburst to the effect I was leaving. In hindsight I'm no that proud of saying that. I'm sure TLK probably knows why I said it...or does she???? FUCK FUCK FUCK I SHALL NEVER TRULY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT. I CAN'T FUCKING STAND IT...at the time the bastard in me wanted her to know. There is no justification for behaviour o' that kind really. No that it's bothering TLK overly tho', I know that much, a state of affairs which proves I am EVEN more stupid than I thought..but anyway...I apologised to her for coming out with that but I confirmed I am looking for something else. I asked her for a reference wi' this job I'm about to apply for. I assured her that I wasn't leaving because I had 'a problem' wi management'. She said " it wouldn't bother me if you did". Good answer. I repeated the 'personal reasons' thing. The true answer is of course 'TLK reasons' but 'one' can't really say that. Aye work was grim. Joyless. No TLK= no spark and no effort. Yes TLK = madness and despair. Great. After work I went to meet AM at the legendary Pivo (nee` St. James' Oyster Bar) near Waverley. I've been there once before. It has TLK memories too, as does every hostelry in this half of the town. One of the first nights we went out for grog she got smashed and somewhere about midnight suggested that we should both 'go to Pivo and pull'. I felt this showed something of a lack of understanding of me and ma raw materials as well as the imbalance in our respective levels of 'attractiveness' so I declined. We were both plenty drunk enough. I was in there over Xmas wi' Mike + Bernie. I told her I'd drank some odd brand of Czech beer that night. That got her maudlin. Her lip quivered. She said that the love of her life used to drink that. She was visibly upset. As I did most of the time I just gazed into her eyes not knowing what to do. She didn't always appreciate me trying to provide too much understanding or empathy. Agan that probably had a lot to do with me and the way things 'really' were between us. I mind I felt awkward at the time but of course we just got blootered and 'forgot' aboot it. Spoke for some time wi' AM. As ever conversation flows easily wi' him. Bands. Fillims. He told me that he'd been reading the blog. I was pleased. We started talking about TLK. He said that he thought I was becoming overwhelmed. This is of course true. He told me to quit the silent treatment with her. He said that's not the way you are. Do you want her to remember you as that? AM has a way of saying things that I tend not to forget. His message was that you've wasted enough time. He accepted that all the yearning and shit like that was definately going down but pointed out why I needed to sort masel out. He meant what he said. He was concerned by my mentions of going to the bridge. He spelt it out bluntly and in an incisive way. I listened. I needed to hear it spelt out like that. He got me to think of how she is probably feeling ie I was a guy who went oot for drinks wi' her. She didn't want any heaviosity coming along wi' that so when she got it she 'withdrew'. She doesn't think she's done anything wrong or hurtful. She's probably spoken to her neebor and had that 'confirmed' too. He's right. I still wish she was 'honest' (my own personal interpretation thereof) but it's no going to happen is it? I need to get on with it. At the time I felt as if something monstrous had been removed frae ma shoulders. I knew the score. Meaningful advice from a genuine pal is quite something, it really is. It was a nice night. Mild. Blowy. I was a shade invigorated.Temporarily high on life. I couldn't get 'Wind Of Change' out my head. Please take me 'too de magick off de moment' etc etc right now. It was almost summer. I wasn't in Fife. Things were guid for a while. It was lovely to have that. In the midst of it I txted CH. I'd just walked past The Usher Hall. He was inside seeing The Flaming Lips. There were a load of bairns milling aboot the pliss. It seemed festive. I wrote 'maybe I've started to get over k'. That won't mean anything to non-Clientele fans but both that song and it's title mean a hell of a lot to me. I got the alboom when we were very pally and I've just wanted to greet ever since. Anyway, go and dae yer research re The Clientele. I wanted to stay out and about in the city night. I amended that to a wish to 'do something'. I went to see 'Pavee Lackeen' at the Filmhoose. It was quite special. In most ways it is as far remove from 'Blue' as I could have gotten. A million country miles. It is the most documentary like drama I've ever seen. It's about a 10 year old girl frae a traveller family in Ireland. Her mother's oan the grog and has 10 bairns. The family in it are a real family and all the travellers are played by non actors. The non travellers are played by actors. The actors aren't that good but of course the travellers are all excellent. There's nae plot and nothing is resolved. Few rules are followed. The dialogue looks mostly improvised. It's 'nowt' but a series of situations and snippets of life. Grim as grim can be. It has to be the closest I could come to watching 'real life ' up on screen. While it doesn't utilise the Stan Brakhage camera technique it still does not have much of the conventional to offer. That might throw some of you but please please stick with it. Without using the modern cinema box of tricks it tugs at you by doing nowt more than presenting a bit of someone's life and really that's enough to make sure you get the message. Another hot McLuckie tip...I'll end up with a status akin to that 'morbidly obese' Interweb movie gossip guy wi' the ginger hair one day. What's he called again?..ha ha..talking of obesity, I've been trying hard wi' the diet for a few days now. Think I've lost a few pounds already. Don't feel anywhere near as bloated. Having mega food cravings but keeping them at bay for the most part. Getting loads o' exercise tae. I dare say It's all good. Have passed on details o' ma financial ruin to the debt counsellor. The procedure of the trust deed thing should start soon. Good lord. Despite moments of neo-bounty I feel worried about ma life. Edgy. I'm no in control. I never have been but I've never gotten used to that either. I've no idea where I'm going. Again I never have but I continue to dislike the vibes therein, Some progress is going down. Me being me tho' I feel for certain as if some crap is roond the corner. What new devilry is this? As well as hoping it isn't waiting for me and 'lying out there like a killer in the sun' (I couldn't resist that) I can keep trying with the blubber and with ma TLK feelings. I want to get there, wherever that is... Just noticed these guys sitting next to me. I've seen them in here before. They're a gay couple who talk to each other like they're trying to imitate pussycats. They do it every time I've sat next to them. It's an odd spectacle that is probably an example of these ones that 'you have to be there' to appreciate. It is of course gubernatorally camp and intimate and nice but it's a bit nippy for spectators to hear sic a contrived sound! I couldn't stop thinkin' o this shite 'ironic' Edinburgh band called Lapsus Lingue who don't talk to the crowd but meow instead. Thats a bit nippy tae. So... Thur. The training course I went to the day was shite.There's nae point in expressing it in fancier terms. Mair SVQ crap. The subject matter was so dry. I couldn't stay awake. I will sound like a complete cunt saying this but 2 of the most genuinely irritating people I have ever met were on the course. One was a pinched flouncy white liberal a' la Miss Jean Brodie. She intoned everything like she was saying La creme de la creme over and over again. Of course she was perfect at 'writing reflective accounts'. Her companion...more of her in a sec...boomed out that Maggie Smith (I'm paraphrasing) here had an arts degree. The tutor mentioned something about having a masters in IT. She said "I've got one of them too". I sank into my seat. She had this prying patronising pseudo-concerned way of phrasing stuff. She spoke in a mewling, nasal voice. She appeared to have done most things and was about to do the things she hadn't done. She made 'her direction in life' very clear. Her pal defied belief. She was equally loud and self obsessed but 'presented' as if she as working class as Hilda's muriel. She knew everything about leggings and 'The Bangkok Ladyboys'. She was a big big lady. Think Mama Cass wi' hair by 'Classic Cuts Of Monifeith'. She had this bogus ripe Dundonian accent. It sounded way exaggerated to me. On reflection it was like hearing one o' Fran + Anna... if they had come frae Dundee. MAH MAN CANNAE LET OAN. MAH MER HAD CANCER FER 6 YEE-ARS. AW THE NURSES IN YON HOASPITAL ARE PIGS. SHE GOAT DROAPPED OAN HER HEID. It was all high drama wi' her. She was desperate to tell you how she had suffered and how she 'goat oan wi' it'. On and on it went. She was unstoppable. The word 'loud' cannot do her 'justice'. "THAAT WOMAAAN HAD AYAAT BAIRANS. HE SHOULD BE REMOAVED LIKES" . I became convinced she was a spoof. Surely she was about to say 'Ocht jings I cannae get ma matches to light'. Maybe Julia Davis was under there. Mama Cass had an odd closeness wi' Dame Maggie. They were a double act. Coming soon to the Bein Inn Glenfarg it's 'The Bona Fide Boastful Class Struggle Medicine Show'..or something. I just hoped that at least a mere fragment would come out of it and that Murray Melvin would come in and call anyone he could a 'silly wee hoor' but of course it didn't happen. I was sitting next to a lovely lass wi' endearing ringletty bits in her hair. It was 'gingery' hair too. I seem to have 'a thing' about that. I tried to think of 'other' topics. I just ended up getting mair and mair negative. These fucking people. I envy their motiviation. Their keeness. How can they be bothered with this crap? I was stunned. On Wed night I had felt positive re my thoughts on TLK. I got a coupla tests today. Her best pal was on the bus I got doon to Leith. I didn't see her when I got on. She walked past later and didn't acknowledge me. There maybe is a chance she didn't see me. I got para. I'd nearly got on her bus the day before but 'checked' masel when I saw she was on it. That an't cool. On Tuesday I mentioned to TLK the thing I told you about the other week re bumping into someone who was obviously her pal's twin sister. From what I described she confirmed that it was the twin rather than the pal. Things had been pally for a while that mornin. She had referred to walking out on her neebor when she got annoyed at her last week. My mind went into overdrive. We were on a wavelength. Maybe she 'understands' why I walked out on her after all. THIS WAS THE WRONG THING TO DO. I piled in. I said "Or maybe 'yer pals' ( I can't think of a good 'name' for her) not talking to me. I think I freaked her out a bit the last time I saw her". This was my most blatant reference yet to the 'falling out'. It was a clumsy thing to say. It seemed like I was 'looking for a reaction' which I was. She took it perfectly calmly and said ' no no of course not'. She was in a good mood at the time but funnily enough she wasn't later on ie after I'd said this. At the beginning of Thur I thought I had started to get my shit the gither. On reflection, I've not really got off the starting line. I'm trying hard, I really am. The pliss where the course was held was deep in TLK country. On the way hame I walked past the top of her street. I'd stumbled down that road with her on many occasions. I should have went a different way. All the old thoughts came back. The waves of despair that hit me when I think of where she might be and what she's doing and the fact I'm not there. There is no basis for internal negotiation here. I just have to stop thinking this way. Wandered aboot for some time. Bought some 'healthy' shopping. When I got back to the s-h I saw a pic o' that wee shite Chris Evans and the rather lovely tho' persistently disappointing Jo Whiley meeting the queen. They seemed ecstatic and fawning. I couldn't understand this. Why would anyone see it as a privilege to meet her and why would you treat her wi' any heirs and graces? Haein cash clearly does mess you up. Fucking bullshit artists. Surely naebody under 70 respects the royal bastards do they? After I while I thought of my 'tendency to get angry'. I have to work on this. I promise you I'm not as much of an arsehole in real life. My kneejerk thing seems to be that I have intense feelings of exclusion and dislocation a' that. If I get para I feel like I'm being 'kept out' of stuff, as if I'm not invited. I know that my manner invites a form of the cold shoulder. I'm rarely outwardly grumpy unless I lose it and I force masel to be ie mostly with TLK but I usually sit back and keep oot the road. I don't involve masel. I prefer to stay out of things but then I sit on the fringes and wish I was in the midst of it, waiting all the time for someone to talk to me and 'take an interest'. When nobody does I dwell on it and start getting aw these crazy feelings which I've outlined to you non stop for the last 4 months. I want to have someone ask me " What's It Like Being You?". That would make me the centre of attention. I would feel Iike I was being thought of. That seems to mean a lot. Of course I then get paranoid re the normal aspects of interaction. I'm just not an 'extrovert' I guess. I still have bad times when I feel that it's other folk's 'fault' that I'm alone and unhappy. I turn it round. The anger thing diverts attention away from scrutiny of me. Cue any character from Eastenders...I just want to be loved and accepted...Shit...moving on... so noo it's Friday. Have had the 'day off drifty' thing but not too bad as yet. Spent the mornin typing this in Stelios country. I miss being able to turn round and look at Chloe Sevigny. I must go back to Maisie's at one point. I intend to gan on a long wander later. Not sure where. It is TLK's birthday. I rambled on to AM re how I wasn't going to recognise it as we're no pals..sob etc...I've thought about her a great deal but I'm trying so much not to do so. I'll probably txt later and wish her happy birthday and all that and then I'll switch off ma TV set and go and do something less boring instead..that sounds like a good idea...

Matter Paneer

2006-04-13T08:30:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night 'awake in a muddle', I made a phone call tae ma mother. Felt desperate. I wanted all ma problems solved for me. Instead she grilled me re money. It turned into a short phone call. I was 18 again and I had just been caught sneaking records into the house. Mother wasn't that keen on me spending money then and she still isn't. Just as well I never told her about imminent financial ruin then. That can never happen. I got a tad bereft one night and told her a lot of TLK stuff. It wasn't a great thing to do. She would probably attack TLK if she ever met her. That ain't good. Thur- Day off but I had to gan up tae the hospital for a meeting re a prospective new client. I didn't want to be there. With hindsight I didn't have to be there either. It didn't feel like I was entering a massively 'forward thinking' environment. A lot o' things the guy had done while delusional and very unwell got cast up to him as 'reminders' of episodes which would ensure he returned to the hospital asap if they were repeated. I guess I was isolated in thinking it might no be the coolest approach to take ie to rake all this up but the boy (for the meaning o' that, please remember I come from Fife) seemed a little inconsequential next to the obviously superior wisdom of the psychiatric profession. The tone was patronising and of the stern patrician variety. At the end o' it he said he felt embarassed and no wonder. His past was presented to him in a 'it's your fault' bad bad light. I didn't feel proud of ma job. It seemed like I was complient with 'them'. I didn't want this. It has seemed ever thus. I started to think that maybe it's me that is 'wrong' so of course I shut up and proceedings went on the way they were intended to. I didn't like all this. It didn't seem like the way it should happen but it did seem like the way these things tend to happen. Resignation. Before I left, the S-h had been bearing down hard. The size, the grimness, the absence of the feeling that my living space is 'a home' etc. Aye, there are many poor vibes re my present 'living' environment. One of them is the fact that I have no decent hi-fi set up due to my complete lack of ability in setting up the speakers and all the equipment...now that's real hardship. You see I've never really kept it that 'real' at a' have I?... My CD player is in the storage space that I'll probably never be able to rescue it from due to having nae £ for the rest o' ma days, but I'd still like to have ma computer goin' through the speakers. I have a pair of awful PC speakers the now. It just means that I'm not listening to music at the moment. I wish I was. It reminds me that I can be a lazy lazy man, slouching around in the chaotic environment and wearing nowt but an air of resignation to 'it all'. Was dwelling in the midst o' this when I phoned the work re the meeting. Of course TLK answered. I inquired re practicalities but wanted to ask about the blonde bits in her hair . Were they still there? I hoped they weren't. Even talking to her reduces me to a wreck, he says in the stylee of anyone called Adrian from Brize Norton. After the hosp, I went to see 'Pierrepoint' wi' CH and Idles. As CH has said before, this looks so like a Mike Leigh fillim complete wi' the presence o' a coupla Leigh 'vets on board. The overall gloom was rather welcoming to me tonight. There was something re seeing a fillim about compassion and a' that presented to you when you're no feeling chipper. You get it. Big time. And I did. I'm sure it was a somewhat liberal adaptation but it was none the worse for that. Another go see, I would suggest. On return...I didn't want to return to the S-h. Not sure where I wanted to go but not there for certain. I tried to 'write down the truth' I have to share with you what I wrote. It's a classic of it's kind. I truly am the Jake Ar-nott of Gorgie/Dalry... A species unknown. Stiptic pencils. I wish I'd written a series of poems called Anthems For A Generation. Even the actual author of this gets a lumber. Self pity is my name. It's my wife and my life. Ha. Do you have any mair?... I'm sure you agree that it was worth sharing...
Friday. TLK was at work so therefore I nearly lost my mind again. She made 'funny' remarks. The situ wi' the client got worse. She got barbed. I replied in kind. It was petty and horrid. She must have known that. I did but I kept on making the comments anyway. She just beamed at me in a knowing and rigid way for 5 mins and then said nothing for the rest of the time. I don't want to talk aboot it any mair. It was CH's birthday. A' the best to the man himsel'...without whom etc etc...It 'dawned' that it's also TLK's next week. I'm trying not to think of all the cues that will be setting off in ma head. At night we went for nosh and drinks. I was on the softies. Nae grog in 3 or 4 weeks now. I'm going strong...ha....good chat went down. I left early. Too much on ma mind. Too much crap.
Sat- Was on the way doon to the work. Felt on poor shaky form. I was going to see 'her' today. I struggled with all the 'holding it in' that entailed. A young guy stopped as he walked past. He sheepishly pointed and said "Keith?" I said. "no, man" and chuntered as I walked off. I knew who he meant. Roond about Xmas I mind being on a bus when a load o' schemies came on. They were in the midst of high Buckie intake. The scalliest one o' the lot got awfy excited. He shouted. "I'm no joke-hong. That's Keith oot o' The Office. It is likes". I had a big beard at the time. My face is round. I look 'introverted'. I must have been 'him oot' o the office'. I saw said Ewen MacIntosh trudging the streets during the festival last year. I'm strangely proud to say that he is 'even bigger' than me. That provides me with some crazy relief. He looked 'puggled' in the heat. He does look like me. I bet you he's loved up and normal tho'...I'm not honouring that wi' exclamation marks. I'm too bitter...or something...Saw 'her' later. It was cordial enough. She's so in control, it genuinely is rather scary. Her whole tone can change in an instant if she doesn't want to talk about something. It's incredible. It's not something I can cope with. It irritates and bewilders me, the effort she goes to not to talk about certain things. I know she does it. She might put it down to anxiety if you managed to get inside her head and tune in to her thoughts- she will never verbalise anything of this nature- but it might be more like somewhere between can't be bothered and what would that achieve? Conversation was back and forward a bit. She was friendly and then not so, just as normal. She got increasingly friendly as the day went on. Maybe she just wanted me to make her a cup of tea! Which I did. I am, still forgive the cliche totally head over heels about her. I can't keep saying that ALL of my thoughts come back to her but of course I do. If I have any ambition in life and if I'm around long enough then I want to immortalise her in some way. The thought of bringing TLK to 'the world'..for fuck's sake...is quite something to me. I suppose at least outwardly I'd be doing it to try and 'vent' my fucked up feelings mostly. She is a unique person too, I think. I've certainly never met anyone like her but maybe I am a limited mofo. Maybe she would be of interest to some folk. I'd like to see how she reacted too. Totally underwhelmingly would be the answer but I want to do it anyway. On Sat I wanted to tell her all the things I was feeling about her, about me, about the crappiness o' ma life- ha. The feeling I get when I'm in the office and she leaves is, in all it's shitty honesty, the most sunken feeling I've experienced. It gets worse and worse every time it happens. On Saturday I kicked a few chairs around for a while. She came back just after I'd finished. She'd left her crossword. I cannae describe what went through ma head when she left again. Folk bandy phrases around like how they're in despair. I know I was in genuine despair of sorts after she left. I sat in the office and cried. I missed her. I hated her. I love her. The knowledge that it's impossible to speak meaningfully to her for whatever reason- a combination of our personalities being the correct answer- was almost too much. I was finished. Needed to get out into the mythical aimless night. I left the office early. I had to get out somewhere. I ended up scaling Arthur's Seat in the gloom. I was looking for clarity...well her...I didn't get it. I had blowsy moments where I wanted to jump off. Maybe I staved off the infarction for an hour or 2 instead. This didn't help. Walked frae there 'home' to the S-h. Just sat down and she phoned. Not sure why. She saw a message I'd got on the works pager. She wanted to know the client in question was ok. He was. I let her know. She was compassionate or at least sounded like she was. No personal stuff of course. She sounded tipsy. In ma head she sounded like the loveliest individual alive. I couldn't take talking to her any longer. Thankfully she hung up. As soon as the phone was down I wanted to call her back. Sun- Don't want to talk about work. No TLK. No interest to me. Met KB for a while. I didn't feel good. Went to see Junebug later. Shit man, the most important things are ayways those that folk leave unsaid. This fillim understands that. I loved it. It doesn't all tie together neatly. It's all about the great meaty stuff within us all. Matters of the heart. Fuckin' great fililm. Go see it. It starts oddly. Weird choice of a horible Syreeta tune as a theme song. The fact it begins with 2 nubiles snogging each other to the sound of what is nowt more than a typical rom com theme tune puts you off tho' it doesn't take long to get you back in ie a frame or 2. Watching nubiles act out animal attraction. I thought, 'this is not my life' or in an odd way maybe it is. In 'spiritual' terms it is a billion miles remove from my life. This cannot happen to me . Does it happen to anyone? FUCK AYE. Somehow the film managed to get ma heid away from certain concerns. On the way out they came back when I recalled the sheer horror of the cinema itself. The Fountainpark 'leisure complex' is a nasty place. It is like being back in Fife. There's a Wild West theme pub up the stairs where the Diet Coke tastes like its from a soda stream and the trivia machine is totally fucked. The whole multiplex thing sucks. It is not like 'going to the cinema'. It's like going to a schemie fest. A normal person's theatre of dreams. Even the 'weirder films' at multiplexes are populated by the bastards. They didn't take to this one. I felt like I was back in Halbeath at the Odeon. Here comes the despair...I am indeed Student Grant...these past few days have blended into one. Nae colour and shade. All the same thoughts. The same shite. I was running oot o' money tae. That doesnae help. I've blown many things in ma time but never 'the old Bajan Sea Shell'...Oh I wish I had...Mon- work was quiet from a client pov and busy from an 'admin' one. I've started an epic project of documentation which is draining any remaining vim and vigour oot o' me. Nae TLK. Not anything really. Met CH later. Our respective pal CJ was through to Edin for the last time before he leaves for the States and a new life and a' that. It was touching. CJ's a guy I like a great deal. His enthusiasm for music reminds me of something I had for 5 minutes in the early 90's. It is infectious and meeting him makes me feel dewy eyed as if I've lost something along the way. He's one of the good ones is CJ. I will indeed miss him. I wish I'd seen more of him when I had the chance. I'll mind him ploughing through the vinyl in this truly insane record shop somewhere up the bridges. It was a sight to behold. Later, I ended up goin through to Fife to borrow £ from mother. I got to Kinghorn but wasn't sure I would go to see her. I walked round the Village Of the Damned. It was all closed. I thought re the insane number of pubs and 'facilities' that have closed doon since ma youth. What do folk do here? Watch TV is of course the answer. Some might fuck each other a lot to pass the tme but then in some kind o' benign act o' balance this ain't an area for nubiles. It's more like the land of Nod. It was blowy and cool, just like I remember it. I walked past places where I'd cried, places where I fell off ma bike, places where I got drunk but mostly places I'd went mad in. I didn't want to be there. I dwelt on how the family cause me 'difficulties'. I still borrow their money of course. The fucking hypocrisy of it all. Moan about folk and then borrow cash..class class stuff. I've been thinking re the blog a lot lately and what I want to do is get more honest. It bothers me that I'm only being honest re TLK cause I ken she's unlikely ever to read this. That's bullshit. It's false and it's 'cheating'. Of course I'm not saying that I'm going to start slagging ma neebors off (!!), I might just get a bit more 'obfuscatory' ( oh beloved irony) in the attempt to facillitate honesty and because I want it to ring true. Right now I feel like I want to savage masel...cue Werner..."I VANT A FUCKING MOUNT EVEREST". I want to cast off the shackles of mediocrity !!!!!!!! and make an erse o' masel...what am I talking aboot?...answers on a postcard...Well today's been fuckin' hellish. It started off ok. She was there. She looked incredible. The hair has reached new realms of shagginess. I loved it. She was very chatty. There was the odd reference to 'personal stuff', well quite a few in fact. It didn't seem as difficult as before. I must have got ahead of myself somewhere because her tone changed before long. She'd probably had time to re-evaluate and close a few doors she'd left ajar. I've lost the specifics in amongst a' ma crap but she was 'too' friendly. She kept saying 'loaded' things. I know she does this. For some reason she won't say them straight. Never. I find this the hardest possible thing to deal with ie when a person just isn't goddamned honest with you. Of course I know that I'm not always direct either. Hopefully I tend to eventually tell you when I'm not being 100% bona fide. It's harder with her. I don't know what to do. That's all I can say. My feelings for her keep me coming back to this. They make sure it continues to matter. By the end of the shift, I couldn't speak to her. I was just realising that she'd be leaving soon, I think. I ignored a few smily attempts to talk to me. I think she got annoyed at a mention I made of stuff re the new client. She knows she can do a better job than me and so she has taken over slightly...in a TLK style. She's made showy 'comments' like "Oh, I hope I'm not stepping on your toes". The golden rule in dealing with TLK is that she is ALWAYS IN CHARGE. There are no exceptions. She WILL have the upper hand. In my POV you either take her on...you will fail...or you get away from her. That's the way it feels at the moment. What do you do when someone 'implies' everything and doesn't give you any honesty? The answer is nothing. There is nothing you can do except lie down and let them get on with it. As soon as she left, 'it' ie the sense of a lost TLK, started again. This feeling is truly evil. It's a sense that nothing can ever be funny or happy or 'light' again and that you are worth nothing and that you are nothing..add that to the burst of TOT I got as an accompaniment and right now I believe it. Can I be a glib bastard again? This is a serious question. How long can a person live in a kind of misery and wretchedness and just put up with it? I hope that it's not too long. 'Soon it will be over. I laughed under my breath over your shoulder"...aye...

The Neps Possee

2006-04-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

Mair o' the detached stuff. Life isn't happening. "There's just some things that I see from the side". I could beat you into submission with metaffers that were just dripping in wind and wuthering and I would really like to but I'm trying (relatively speaking) to learn the value of restraint so therefore I'll edit this part down to ...made it onto the train through to Glasgow. Met CH ootside Mono and we went to see Afrirampo. The impact this band had on me when I saw them before was considerable. They played to a meagre crowd in Edinburgh and really fucking rocked the place. I have to say tonight I didn't enjoy them as much but they did have so much to live up to. They seemed to play fewer 'ragers'. There was a bit more messing about. They had acquired some longer pieces some of which contained elements bordering on introspection, not the first thing that normally comes to mind with this band. They had also found some new 'performance' bits which I enjoyed a great deal . Maybe the 'shock value' of being so impressed by an unfamiliar band had just gone. Maybe my mind had gotten attuned to the sight of 2 'eccentric' skinny Japanese girls rocking out and doin' whacky things. This is something that shouldn't be. The intensity and the ROCK level seemed to have gone down and that imo was a shimm. They went down very well tho'...and rightly so. Aye, some wee bastard who called himself 'Germlin' played as well. He was a despicable fake geek. I can't stand this appropriation of despair by the world of virillity. He thought he was funny. So did most folk. He had a lap top. He cue'd up waggish 'gabba' sounds and then 'jamp' aroond in a 'comedy' and dare one say it, 'spaz' style. If you were his best neebor and/or a membor of the arch enemy Bricolage then you maybe found it funny but for the casual observer or ok..me... it was real garbage despite the occasional big bassy bit which revealed hitherto unheard strength in the Mono PA. It got surreal. A plummy Glasgow version of Jay and Silent Bob were digging it big time ie A chunky ponytailed Gimli lookalike and a longhaired 'dude' got very excited, even taking part in the Germ's 'antics'. They were keen keen keen guys. The whole Germlin spectacle sucked ass. There are certain members of (musical) society who because of prevailing winds and culture can get away with anything. The Germ is one of them. ALL you need is shaggy hair and the ability to wear the claes of a 'goofus' and thae black thick glasses and yer sorted. If you happen to come from The West End tae then you're in 7th heaven. You're a 'made' person. This was yet another example thereof. It turned oot that Jay and Silent Bob loved Afrirampo too. Cue more 'awkward yet enthusiastic' dancing. Silent Bob looked as if he had been made by the Weta Workshop complete with warts and facial 'peculiarites'. There is a chance that he genuinely wasn't human. It was hard to tell whether the dancing was totally sardonic or not. They may have been the Tekken 2 worshipping bona fide article. This 'type' is not normally seen in Mono tho' I am aware that metallers tend to like anything with loud guitars and also anything played by pretty girls . It's just that they tend not to be exposed to many of the non generic loud guitars in Kerrang or the pretty girls in any sphere of their lives either so if they stumble onto something by accident they will tend to dig it big time and they did. It was touching in it's way, I think. My mind wasn't right while I was there. I was dazed. I felt an overwhelming urge to drink beer and lots of it. I think I spoke to CH a lot re 'going to the bridge' It was on ma mind all the time. Its been there today. Festering away. "I can't find a lot in ma life I enjoy". I have a number of 'problems' etc etc. That weight has reappeared ... in addition to the 20 stone one round my belly ...overpowering and draining. I'm loath to write it down cause it sounds extremely shit, like the work o' someone trying to curry favour and manipulate you. I know I have done manipulative things in my time. I'm deeply ashamed of them. I got desperate for attention or company or to have the feeling someone was thinking about me and that I 'meant' something to them. In my delusional state I would think I was due 'recognition' for something unclear, just anything. Maybe I like the anonymity of writing this blog and the feeling I'm getting something out into the open. I have to weigh that up against the opportunities it gives me for negative self reflection. I'm far less self conscious than I would be if I was talking to your face. I'm not sure whether that's a negative or a positive. My mood's been so low today. I've lolled around trying to get moving. All the time new negative thoughts come in to replace the ones I've got rid of. New reminders of how 'shit' things seem to be. The TOT has made sporadic reappearances. I've been dwelling on debt and the prospect of having no money. I'll probably be skint for some time from next week. I do force masel to a certain extent to try to think of solutions to 'everything' and it's as if I have no energy left to fight. The negative outlook has taken over and removed any will I had. It's felt that bad today. There really is nothing to report re what I've done cause I haven't done anything. I've thought about doing lots but it's all 'too difficult'. Being tired o' life can be pretty tiring. Fuck...

I Ken That Boy. He's Ma Brother

2006-04-09T16:17:00.000-07:00

Sunday PM in the City Of Hopes and Dreams...Left the land of the Interweb and went to see 'The Squid and The Whale' at The Cameo. Just sitting there vibin' before the fillim began. What should be playing over the tannoy but the first Kristin Hersh solo alboom. Very strange indeed. I'm never sure what I make of her stuff when I hear it these days. It was the alboom with 'The Letter' and 'Me And My Charms' and a' that on it. That is the first one isn't it? 'Hips And Makers'. Aye it is. To hear the stuff again was of some interest to me. It sounded a bit 'showily intense' if that makes any sense? It was all too simple and straight forward. A bit like me and ma writing then? ha ha. No wonder I listened tae her so much in ma 'formative years' much to the chagrin of a number o' ma pals and fellow band mates. Recently whenever I've rediscovered anything by her I just don't get it, mainly for the reasons I mentioned above. It sounds so normal and plunka plunka as if she was stuck in a groove and didn't have sufficient 'otherness' or goddamned talent to get out of it despite 'presenting' to the contrary. I feel she's extremely schticky in her approach. Odd to hear this again for sure. I think I could make up a mini album of her numbers that I would like to hear again out of all the millions of records she's made in various guises. That would be enough for me. Acht well. Maybe I should tell her this next time I see her. She is in fact married to KB. The first time I saw the future Mrs. KB I couldn't quite believe she wasn't KH. There are days when I still can't. Quite a likeness. Or is that just me being me again? Aye the fillim was rather great. I don't use this phrase lightly- it was 'real'. It wasnae the story of ma childhood by a long shot but I recognised a good bit of similarity in nuance and texture (ha) along the way. It was short and bitty like a snap shot o' a period of time. Surprising then that it didn't have a better sense of the period. There were modern day cars and bits and pieces to be seen which was sloppy but importantly it was funny and sad in spades and it reminded me a lot re growing up and of growing up in the 80's. I came frae a different class of course but I was 'an awkward boy' and that's a universal language. Jeff Daniels did 'complacent academic' magnificently but for the majority of the fillim I was transfixed by Laura Linney. I've ayways liked her. Just to clear up yesterdays post and to give you a reference point, she has TLK's complexion. I love that vibe. You can read her face. It's open and warm. She's lovely in this. Perfect as a mum and as a 'newly single' woman too. A bit more of her wouldn't have gone amiss but then I always say that about characters and actors I like. Walking hame I minded that earlier in the day I had seen a minor legend. Well certainly a shaggy one of yesteryear. I was in the KB mobile. Oot the windae I saw Bob Fairfoull, once of awbody's favourites Idlewild and now of naebody's favourites Degrassi. I'm sure he gets the odd royalty cheque frae Parlophone frae time to time but I think of him as having had a somewhat mighty 'fall from grace' tho' I too would have been keen to get away from the shite that they were/are playing. He was on a perennial 'worse for wear' tip in thae days- that's what the NME and legions of posh bairns picked up on- and this sighting reminded me o' that, not in the sense of drunken glory days but more that the way he looked told me that the party was maybe over. He trudged more than of yesteryear. He was carrying a John Lewis bag- shaggy ones do not have to enter into domestic areas sic as this- and a stoop to boot. Maybe he was talking tae hissel tae. It looked like he was or that he had done so quite recently. We would probably get along well these days. When 'ma' band were still going we played with Idlewild a coupla times (I know you all don't believe this. How can a fat bastard have ever invaded one of the key circles in the world of virillity? Well it was only a minor invasion. I wasn't as fat or as bald when we started tho' I was still to a level which merits exclusion from the shaggers club. Whenever I tell folk of my past in bands they look at my gut and my lack of hair and a look of utter disbelief and mistrust crosses their face. IT'S TRUE. Musicians are meant to scream sex and the high life whereas I'm more from the school of 30 seconds with the centrespread of Razzle followed by another 'doomed to failure' loan application appointment...anyway...I mind Bob speaking to me a good few times. He seemed too drunk to make any impression other than to wear you doon. He once said that Idlewild had almost asked us if we wanted to tour with them but they thought there was no way we would or could do it. Because of the situ in the band at the time I found this hard to accept. It messed with my mind, it really did. It fed my 'life has passed me by' and 'I am defeated' shit. Seeing BF must have set the tone for seeing 'musicians' and ones with odd 'personal' connections at that. Later I saw a member o' St. Jude's Infirmary coming oot o' The Cameo. He's the wiry wee guy who plays the bass. SJI are a bunch of Mazzy Star obsessives consisting of 3 shaggy bairns and 2 old men, some of whom allegedly come from Kirkcaldy, my home town. The singer has something of the' Beaky Bailey' (a camp as Christmas music teacher at ma old skale with, funnily enough, a huge conk)/ Robin Michael/ FYJO trinity about her. She must be one of the Kdy ones. Ma home town is a motherfucker of a place. It nearly broke me. It puts the piss in provincial. You can see the class struggle anywhere you go and it doesn't have to be a clear day for you to see it either. The school I went to was very mixed. A lot of tough folk frae the Links area o' Kirkcaldy and a lot of posh bairns frae some of the affluent areas surrounding the school. The school had a culture of middle classness writ large: 'school plays'. 'the school brass band' and in particular heavy involvement in a Fife youth jazz (for fuck's sake!!!!) orchestra. The supremo was a legend of this polyglot of the year/ Rotary Club/ Bible Society scene called Richard Michael. This guy strode like a colussus through the blue rinses and the churchgoers of affluent Kdy. You could always tell the kids who were part of his scene- stringy boys and lovely wispy girls, all posh and reeking of mid to upper table division 2 affluence. Everyone was cultured and presentable and going places, usually over to Edinburgh to study Economics and Politics on a parental contribution. This was a world I knew nothing about. What no Sunday school?...and no bassoon lessons either? Ma family couldn't afford a holiday never mind a holiday home. The epicentre of this world was to be found in a couple of schemes (that's the wrong phrase of course...the bourgeoisie live on estates. It's only us oiks who live in schemes) near the Beveridge Park in Kirkcaldy. I remember feeling that this area had to be where EVERY member of FYJO came from. I've always been floored and battered by the trappings of the middle classes. They're all invited. It's all possible- gap years, exchange students, the above- mentioned parental contribution. I hated the inevitability. The feeling that wi' cash you could never fail. I've not thrown off that imression either. When I saw SJI I could picture the 3 youngsters in their Balwearie senior plain red ties in the Mercat shoppping centre at Xmas time playing 'The Rockford Files' followed by 'Pipes Of Peace' on the Tuba or the trumpet...raise money for the belltower at St.Brycedales/ come along to an evening with The Reverend Ken Froude and raise funds to educate the black babies about god. It bore down on you all the time. Come along and praise the efforts of Rory Sandilands in winning the Fife under 14's tennis tourney- RS was a 'lovable' moppet, with a Gower esque hairdo who made the back cover of the Fife Free Press (v.v. inward local rag) when he won a few gemmes in the Bevvy Park against fellow plummy ones called Callum and Victor or Alasdair. His family seemed to be loaded which made him far more 'newsworthy' In turn this helped to perpetuate the hegemony. The genteel ones of 'their' class would love him much in the same way that Stuart Anderson was lionised by ''my' class. The fucking reactions of these people. 'Oh you're not working?' etc etc. Lend us a few pounds please and make yersels useful, you upper middle bastards. You get it frae both sides in Fife. Ma ain class have a tradition of producing 'wee shites', the highest quality examples. In certain circles you survive simply by coming across as stupid as you can. You have to. Suspicion arises particularly when you are a 'fat bastard' that you might be a 'gadgie', a 'radgie' or a 'radgie gadgie' as you don't quite correspond to the look of a Burberry Bastard. Schemies, like overbearing 'achievers' in their own 'style', can do what they like as they shout louder than everyone else. 'Achievers' seem to have a right or a personality to allow them to follow their own paths. This is not afforded to you or I unless we become 'one of them'...permit me one or 2 EM's please...!!! So where do you go in Fife? The answer is nowhere. You get out of Fife and, in theory at least, leave the pressure behind. I digress...back to SJI. The old guys have to be from Fife. There is way too much of the Sunday Afternoon jam session about them for them to come frae Morningside. The guy I saw last night may be as well. While not quite having the air of Boglily Road that the singer does, he definately has a kent face, it's true. Shit, I'm having trouble identifying what it is I want to say. I saw the guy. I thought o' Fife. I'm not that keen on their music, awbody else is, and of course they're all that counts. So that was Sunday. Monday I could feel a mood setting in. I'll see TLK tomorrow. It overwhelmed me. I tried to fight it but of course I couldn't. I recall nothing at all re work but the memory of an awareness that TLK is always there in ma thoughts. I can't overstate that. It's impossible for me to do so. I wished for a while today I hadn't mentioned what I said re her past on the last post. I suppose I wanted to give a bit mair context to what I say aboot her and why I like her/ why I think about her all the time. It's no as if anyone reads this anyway. Well it's no! Decided I'll keep it in. I suppose it's testament to my lunacy if nothing else. Can recall nothing re Monday. Lots of work, I think. All with a feeling of doom underneath. It was coming from everywhere and not just the obvious. To counter it I ate and ate all day. I was 'starving' as soon as I'd finished anything. My mind jumped back and forth. The TOT started. It was true agony. I can't tell you all the thoughts I had. Flying at me. "This is what you'll do". "This is what you are". "This is what you've done". Over and over for hours. It all wore me down. Not sure how but I did manage to sleep. Maybe I'd expended so much energy in lifting the crisps to ma mooth. Woke up on Tues. The TOT had gone temporarily at least. The odd murmour but nothing sustained. Went into work. I didn't want to. I saw her at 12-ish. She greeted me with a cheery gesture. I grunted tho' talked a wee bit later. It was all back and forward stuff again. One friendly encounter. One unfriendly. We chatted about something and then kinda mid conversation she got up and went to talk to KS in the other room. I started to feel that I just couldn't take any more of this shite from my side and from hers. I found it hard to look in her direction. I mostly squinted at her. She said something patronising during the team meeting thing we had. I countered. It helped to make me feel worse. I feel every emotion that you can feel when it comes to her. I seem annoyed at her. Not totally sure why. You probably have as good an idea as me. In the afternoon I went with a client to his daughters funeral. It was heavy heavy stuff. I felt as if I wasn't doing my job properly. I'm not good with people. I thought of ma mother's edict " aye son, if you hate yersel ye canne help other folk" . It didn't help. All day Tuesday I thought about me and my abilities. They didn't amount to much. My achievements came to absolutely nothing. I saw her again beofre I finished work. Almost mid sentence she seems to change emphasis and inflection in what she says. What does she mean?? She said a few things that could have been taken as sarcasm. I hate the feeling I get from her that whenever I 'get oot o' masel' and relax and feel comfortable talking with her then that's when she'll start to disconnect and get abrupt with me. At the moment I find it genuinely impossible to be around her. It is too taxing and too much. I know this is MY problem. It must be. Whoever's 'problem'it is I don't know how to deal with it. After I left the work I felt as if I'd had enough, quite frankly. The TOT came back. I missed her already. I couldn't face seeing her again. I couldn't face seeing masel again. The level of squalor in the shithole was beyond normal levels. I sat there with gut bulging eating ma chippy. I looked at the bottle of bleach I had on the bunker. I wasn't scared of it anymore. At that point a news story came on the telly. It was about an old footballer who had grogged heavily. He was very ill. He needed a liver transplant. He seemed mired in the glory days. He wanted them back. The feature ended with one of the best things I've ever heard. He was physically fucked up. In a calm voice he said 'I've danced. I have to pay the piper. I know that ' . I honestly don't know how to follow that.

Gladstone Dainty

2006-04-07T11:52:00.000-07:00

Aye so I'm writing this back in the land o' the Interweb booth. The pliss is deserted. All I can hear are the sounds of forced revelry frae the groghoose next door. An old 'hoofer' probably called 'Jack Daw' is belting out 'Hey Jude'. That fuckin' song. He's going down a storm but of course the grog is probably going doon better. He's only the side show. Hey man, maybe that's my vocation in life ie to be a pub singer. Oh the potential for pathos and associated mullarkey that would bring my way. I ayways quite liked the nervous ones who would carry on regardless in the journeyman style while awbody talked over them. Attributing 'dignity' to any 'entertainers' or classic rock obsessives feels amiss of me but I can dig when a person keeps a stiff upper lip while being assaulted by the noise made by someone else's big moment/experience/night out etc. I believe that most showy pub rockers should be taken away and...'destroyed'. Crowd pleasing schtick and pissed up singalongs are no what dreams are made o' in ma book so propagators should not be tolerated. How can you trust Peat Loaf and his ilk? A' thae care about is making sure their backing tapes are working and that their trusses are correctly positioned. It's not rock and roll nor is it the sound of the underground. It's the sound of the Brian Rogers Connection and Summer Starlight Special. No ma scene. The ruffled man surviving against the oppressor?..now that's a bit mair like it... well, Thursday didnae hae much goin on or at least it felt like that. I s'pose I'm accustomed to having this ache and aura of TLK present underneath my daily living and my daily thinking. She's ayways there. It feels like a mountainous task to drag masel away from her and get back to the stuff I'm supposed to be thinking about. Had an interview wi' an agency in the mornin'. The head of the agency used tae work at ma pliss. TLK had spoken about her a few times. Therefore all I thought about was her. "So, McLuckie, what experience do you think you have for the job?" " Well, the thing I like most about TLK is her complexion (true)" "I'm sorry? etc etc ". I've always wanted to be Billy Gaunt or Charlie Hawtrey you know. I'm sure the standard o' ma 'writing' makes that clear. Anyway, aye it was hard to keep on an even keel. The guy who did the interview seemed a good bloke. I 'got the job' so it's a case of getting ma disclosure form in and then I can start doing shifts after that. I so need to do this financially tho' I know I'll have to force masel into working on ma days off. What? Do you mean I can't waste time anymore?...shit...It soon dawned on me looking at the Disclosure form that somewhere in the shithole I appear to have lost all ma relevant documentation...my passport disappeared after the last time I used it, my birth certificate is probably in the storage space in Granton (bill now standing at £550 and counting) and my last Disclosure form should be in the shithole but seems to be hiding. I've known all this for a while but have totally lacked the motivation to look into replacing them. Yet more slackness in the blackness. So of course that should have triggered a flurry of activity on Thur but it didn't. My energy levels when it came to doing this appeared to have reached Mr. Burns level at best. Plenty of wan ennui (they used that phrase ad nauseam in the NME in the late 80's. It cut such a swathe through ma vocab and my 'means of expression'. How exotic it sounded, particularly if ye came frae Kirkcaldy rather than Kentish Town. Ma mind has cut off any possibility that ma first contact wi' this phrase might have come from an article re how seminal Blue Rondo A La Turk were) and a number of leaden palls to boot. Work was brisk tho'. A fair bit goin on. Nae TLK 'til next week but I spoke wi' KS for a wee while. Not sure why but I got the impression TLK had been talking to her re ma sulk on Tue. No concrete evidence but just picked up a possible vibe in the way she phrased a few things. No sure why I should think that but I do. KS was still great tho' and seemed concerned in some intangible way..it probably was just me wishing that TLK might have thought to talk or to think about 'me'. Shit, I feel a tad shredded by all this. Finished the work day wi' yet another good old client emergency. This one was shorter on bodily fluids than some of the recent ones but made up for it in terms of 'wandering' and 'confusion'. This does gie the impression that it was me who suffered the emergency but surprisingly enough it wasn't. It dragged on for a while. Got back to The S-h quite late. Just in time to catch the SNP 'Party Political Broadcast', probably entitled 'How Thae English Bastards Stole Our Oil'. It has a voice over from 'Sir' Sean (my faither pronounces that as 'zeen') Connery which beggars belief. I ken he's been no weel but he sounds as if he's lost the power of speech on this evidence. The slurring and the Fountainbridgery is hiked up to the max. I did think it was maybe a spoof o' the ppb by John Culshaw or someone. It's quite an eerie listen. One o' ma clients has a 'delusional belief' re Sir Sean...but I won't share that with you...After that, for reasons best kent to masel I watched '9 Songs' a' the way through. It is better if you watch it from start to finish rather than flicking back and forward to access 'money shots' and avoid Black Rebel Motorcycle Club as I did before. I'm afraid I would still have to class it as 'a piece of crap'. That funny wee guy wi' the big willy really looks like Lee Evans doesn't he? Once you realise that then the fillim will lose any coherence/credibility/watchability as a matter of course. That's before you get to the presence of a host of indie shite, all tediously shot in 'audience vision'. Apparently old Walter shot hours and hours of material for this fillim but ended up wi' 66 minutes worth. Suffice to say I would have edited it down further ie straight down into the nearest skip. IMO it is THAT shit. What on earth was I doing watching it again?...fuck...aye...Friday started in a gloomy way. Dragged masel out of the pit (ie euphemism for bed rather than the bit near the stage at Nottingham Rock City) and headed for the lair of the debt counsellor. I'll never forget waiting outside the pliss for the doors to open. A queue had formed. It was freezing, gray, biting and my fellow queuees looked as if they'd had parts of themselves removed. They'd all had hard lives. I bet you a few of them knew all there was to ken aboot strangulated hernias and aboot bein' awfy bad wi' the jaundies. The appointment itself was strange. It was over in a flash. The lass was very good. All common sense and straight talking. She strongly recommended I go for the option of something called a 'protected trust deed' ie it's no quite bankruptcy but yer debts are written off and you pay £100 a month for 3 years to the guy who handles your deed. It sounds like the way to go. I need to provide further evidence o' ma multitude of accounts and cards and waste and a' that. I felt relieved in a way mainly because she had a great manner in terms of dealing with it and brought it all down to basics. I got a bit wobbly re the idea of being scutinised. I'm sure there will be mair elements of that to come. I suppose I'll just have to deal with it or I might go to the bridge instead. I headed straight frae the land of debt to see a client up in Morningside. On ma way up there I noticed a lass sitting in front of me on the bus. She was reading what were probably notes for an exam or 'an assignment'. They were beautifully written and laid out. Swirly ornate handwriting with no cross outs or blemishes. The pages were laid out in what looked like stanzas. They handsomely branched out over the page. The first one she opened had the heading 'Madness and Civilisation'. I wondered if maybe it was a poem after all. I hoped that it was. The next one had 'Discipline and Punish' at the top. This piqued my interest even further...and then she got off the bus. She was of the student age and vernacular. I had another huge sense of life passing me by, well of 'awhong' passing me by. I realised after a while that today's particular feeling was more of a bittersweet one than a despairing one. Not sure why. Maybe I should have watched a few more o' thae French fillims wi' Michel Piccoli where he spends all of the running time drooling ower wispy young lasses. Maybe then I would have been able to hike ma feelings up to seem somehow grander so I could gather that I had greater justification for being excited at a lass on a bus. I do tend to feel guilty at doin' that. If I was one o' the virill ones I would feel differently I know. As if I was allowed...somehow...anyway anyway...met the client and afterwards I was standing at the bus stop in the hail in Morningside when Alastair Darling walked down the road. It dawned on me that I'd seen Tam Dalyell at Waverley last week. I am 'hanging' wi' the world o' glib politicking. AD was wearing civvies and looked a bit worn doon. Nobody seemed to recognise him until a Beatrix Potter-y old lady pointed a finger after he went past. I thought she was about to chase after him and pick up from where she left off re next door's lelandii. I thought I was going to run after him too and tell him a few things he would never forget..but I didn't. I was too fat. I was worn down by an old cricket book I'd found in a 2nd hand book store up there. The shop certainly didn't play Dinosaur Jr or sell Saul Bellow and the workforce didn't appear to be 'super skinny' but they certainly were 'super unfriendly' and it didn't particularly 'make me happy', I can assure you. They looked like the type of curtain twitchers who run Neighbourhood Watch schemes country wide. It could well have been that their suspicion was raised by the fact I hadn't been seen at the local parish church. Now that did 'make me happy'. Maybe I could have slugged old Kevin Darling MP with the book....maybe...Aye work was grim today. Quiet for once. The work has a totally different vibe going down imo when TLK is off. Ma head goes heywire when she's there. It's like working at a different pliss when she's no. It seems on reflection that I've felt at certain times as if the sole interest for me in attending work is to see TLK....no shit?... That's certainly what it felt like today anyway. 'Tings seemed muddled tho' I did feel a wee bit o' the weight lifted after the debt thing. Had a rather entertaining 'That's Life' interlude in the PM. Was unpacking an order o' stationary in the office. Found a number of things we wouldn't have had any use for so I had a deek at the box. It said 'To: DLF Trifolium Ltd'. This is not the firm I work for. My mind ran wild on what a trifolium might be. I couldn't stop laughing. Maybe it was another sign of insanity or far more worryingly, of normality. I've never been able to ward off giggling at silly things like this. I had to phone the stationary suppliers and tell them what had happened. I literally could not stop laughing. The lass at the other end of the phone started laughing too. She sounded a good sort. I was half embarassed but more concerned with a land where the trifolium was king. Jeez...next I'll be giving you my hearttfelt admiration for the work of Doc Cox and Cyril Fletcher...sigh...Cannae mind what I did on Friday night. It probably involved 'pulling ma pud' as we would say in Fife. I think it involved watching 'Silent Running' tho' not to the extent I could comment 'fully' on all the hippyness therein. ....hell that wiz Friday. Was late for work on the Sat. It happens every time I have to do an early shift at the weekends. I cannae be geered. I ayways stumble in late. Start time was 9. I got in for 9.45 or thereabouts. A fairly steady day as weekends go. Nowt to report. The body fluids made a reappearance but I shan't dwell on them. Got finished early. Came here to the land of Stelios. 'Jack Daw' was still firing away. In a more contempoary bent this time. 'Common People', 'That's Entertainment', 'Rocket Man'. He was belting them out. The beerlings loved it. I wondered how many folk got laid as a result of being able to display how much of a laugh they were by believing the hype and singing along mid-slug and getting fully into the entertainment. That seems to be how you 'get a lumber'. It's definately one o' the reasons why I've never had one o' thae. Back at the S-h. More 'Silent Running'. Still didn't take it in so I moved onto 'Factotum'. I love this fillim. As you've maybe picked up so far I love Bukowski too. What a fuckin' cliche` I undoubtedly am. The first time I read 'Post Office' I was actually working for The Post Office at the time. I dug what he had to say. He seemed to know the score about getting through life. The lack of 'connection' with people. He was an observer of people too. He had a handle on how we tick. 'Ham On Rye', his novel about a horrid childhood, is ma favourite novel. It is a true heartbreaker. If you ever thought that your childhood doesn't go towards making you what you are then I would advise you to read this. I got so into the vibe of 'Factotum' the movie. It has a few things I would do differently but it tries hard to catch the atmosphere frae the books and it succeeds for the most part despite updating the 40's/50's setting to the present day. Lili Taylor plays Jan in it. Jan was a character based on Jane Cooney Baker, the love of Bukowski's life. She drank herself to death and he never got over it. The fact that Jan was played by Lili Taylor had added significance for me. TLK looks hellish like LT. I've seen some pics of Lili that quite simply are TLK. It's an uncanny vibe. TLK knew that I liked Lili. She maybe had an inkling that she looked like her too. I have a feeling I might have drunkenly said this to her once. Watching LT meant I thought of TLK's face. I know everything about that face. Elegant and scuffed at the same time. Open, honest, and prone to looking tired. The complexion thing. She has lived. She has been around. Her face speaks volumes about her life, about what she's seen. When I spoke to ISH the other night he told me that he liked how I'd referred to her 'kent face'. I don't think I ever have 'in print' but I'm going to do it now. As soon as I saw her for the first time her face was familiar to me. It got in there and stayed there. I'll never forget it nor will I forget her. Her eyes are dark and intense. They seem to get darker the more she talks to you, the more she relaxes and gets into a conversation. I would look at that face 24/7. I really would. TLK was also aware of Bukowski. The love of her life split up with her and to illustrate the point showed her the infamous pic of a grizzled Hank wi' a fucked looking young lush. They had been grogging it heavily for some time. He told her that they would end up like that if they stayed together. The more I saw LT in a tale of folk immersing themselves in grog, I couldn't stop thinking of the real TLK. Some of the situ's I'd had with her were like Bukowski moments and she has certainly been the love of my life even if it was totally unrequited. She told me of times and moments she had wi' the guy she actually loved and who loved her back. They could have been in Factotum. Maybe they were. I thought of her solidly all night. I wanted to drink. I wanted to drink with her. I wanted to be with her. I knew that at least 2 out of these 3 were never going to happen. I didn't know what to do. I ended up just trying to get some sleep. I was mighty relieved when it came. And as for Sunday...I had a lie in so I woke up wi' a headache. I had slept too long. I felt fat. I remembered that I had gorged non stop for the last 2 weeks at least. Shit man. Make it the last 2 years. I looked in the mirror at a sideways angle. The size and width of ma belly was incredible. It shocked me. I have to do something about it if I want to avoid 'health issues'. Maybe I don't want to avoid them? That may explain why I've just guzzled a milk shake and a chocolate brownie. Greed. Laziness. They're a' here. Earlier I met KB and his daughter P. Had a guid saunter roond. Maybe I am a 'people person' after all? I know I need to be with people. It could be there just arnae that many I like. I don't mean to bore you again but I might have to. On the way doon to meet the family KB I saw a familiar face. I was sure it was TLK's best pal, the one I freaked out somewhat not long after the fallin' oot we had on the day of DT's death. I was sure it was her but noticed the claes and the build weren't right. I then remembered that she had a twin who I've never met. Fucking hell. My heart about jumped out my chest when I saw her. Everything TLK makes me slip into meltdoon the now. Even seeing the sister of her best pal is too much! Everywhere I go 'over this ugly city' takes me into TLK country. There's a connection to her in every single place I go. Fuck, I hope this fades and withers and a' that. Maybe it will. Maybe I will first. Fucking Sundays....'Jack Daw' is at it again as I write this. The stamina of this man is quite something. The grog still flows too. Grog flows everywhere. I wish it was flowing inside me...

Indistinct

2006-04-03T05:39:00.000-07:00

Dear reader (ha) , I bid you formal welcome to another sun packed fun packed instalment of 'mere' confessional writing and 'bitching about my day job'. To quote the neo-redoubtable Russ Meyer (I wonder if he did have this put on his head stone after all) "I was glad to do it". In the light of the hoo-hah re the Blooker prize I intend to turn this here tribute to grand scale waste and macro navel gazing into a witty, entertaining and informative coffee table book on my life affirming quest to grow the perfect courgette. Anyway, after Saturday's seeming proximity to a kind of meltdown Sunday saw moments of slight psychological upturn I reckon. Maybe it started on Saturday night. Finished 'The Last Picture Show'. I loved it. I like a bit of 'the goddamned regret' washed down with windswept longing of an evening and there's bags of it on display here. Of course this fillim set one o' thae benchmarks for this kinda thing. It's obviously seen as a classic and rightly so I think...but I really wish there was more of both Sam The Lion and of Ellen Burstyn's character. She's great in this, as she is in most things, but doesn't get anywhere near enough to do. Ditto the infeasibly grizzled Ben Johnson (no not the 'Crazy Canuck' drugs cheat but the John Ford veteran). He won an Oscar despite only being on screen for about 5 minutes. It's a 'dignified and poignant' 5 mins but still...and no that yon statuettes mean anything anyway but hell...If I was old Bogdan I would have stopped nobbing the 19 yr old Cybill Shepherd for a wee while, got rid of some Timothy Bottoms stuff and put in a bit more o' the older folk cause they're all great and way mair interesting than Sunny and Duane imo...that's an absurd paragraph or 2...Phillip French will be coming after me with a blunt instrument any minute now...This could be another idea for a serious ie fat provincial nobody tells the finest film makers of the world 'the score'. That would be quite something. Aye, what I want is mair quirky violence and mair stunts done wi' thae harness things. That's what I want to see...or that's what I think 'the world' expects me to want...I suppose you would expect me to put 'breasts' in as well tho'... acht well. That passage has just served up another sighting of 'my limitations'. I don't find reading it back to be a hugely invigorating spectacle. I suppose it is 'affirmation' of a kind re what I really am and all but as ma father would say (usually re the fare to be had at Stark's Park, Kirkcaldy of a Saturday afternoon) "that's fuckin' savage amusement son, savage amusement". I feel at this point I have to share another of my faves of his with you. Whenever he's talking of somebody who 'likes a drink' he adopts an arch tone of voice and says "aye, they dinnae neglect themselves". Shit I'm on a roll now. Another one from his repertoire is "aye, he's got alcoholic constipation. He cannae pass a pub". When I think of these I start to think of odd wee epithets that he puts in ma birthday cairds and on messages and I weigh them against all the times I've hated him for being a 'man's man' and for doing his own thing and for being a joke as a husband and not much of a dad for the first 18 or so years o' ma life and I think better of him. Maybe he is human and not 'all too human' after all. Ya dig? So, moving on, Sat night movie (that's another dating site staple isn't it? Aye, I like cuddling up with a DVD and a nice bottle of wine of an evening...pah...the world of the virill. There are times when I want nothing of it, he says..to himself...) in the shithole turned into Sunday morning dozing. Aimless again but got a call frae KB. He fired through and we had a guid day. Plenty of chat. Chat with KB is a great thing for me. He is one of the few people who truly KNOW me and I tend to feel that we're on the same wavelength when we talk. Having that feeling o' closeness is almost alien what with a' thae self imposed 'connection' issues and a' that. A fine stroll through the big city vibes. I couldn't stop thinking about how different Edin is on a Sunday compared to Kirkcaldy where it all appears to stop. When I lived there I felt that there were nae possibilities available to be exhausted in terms of 'passing the time' there and particularly not on a Sunday. On that day even mair than others there appeared to be no great culture of doing anything either. On a Sunday you mope around wearing tracky bottoms and bemoaning the fact you've to work the morn. You might go to see the latest entry in the 'Miss Congeniality' series at the one multiplex which covers the entire kingdom but you'll be half asleep when you're watching it, heavily troubled by heartburn from yer meal at 'The Italian' the night before. I kid you not, that is the actual name of an Italian eaterie in Kdy. it seems to have a sponsorship deal with the local pipper. Every week you see a different 'typical couple' photographed mid meal in there. As advertising features go it lacks a certain elan but then again that's Fife you're talking about. 'A social life' means drinking and then going to 'Jacks' on a Saturday night for more drinking. You drink 'awhong' down wi' a huge chaser of despair. It eats you up. It totally did for me., The feeling that there was no entertainment, no transport, no escape, nobody who understood you, no like minded people, nothing but laziness and replicas of the Paulsgrove estate and the accompanying mentality. Thugs high on The Daily Record and 'Bud' (pronounced Bud-visor of course). All you had was a endless Sunday night and the mad rush to buy 10 cartons of Pringles from the David Sands before it shut. My whole life I've had a fear of that Sunday feeling. Enforced laziness. Emptyness. Nothing open. No avenues. No outlets. A world of the status quo where folk were too damned lazy to fight against anything. They accepted closure after closure of their facilities. Acht as long as theres a corner shop. We've got the telly. Fucking television...that's all you do in Fife. Stay in and watch the telly. Make do and mend. Put up with it. Endure. Learn to accept. Shit I have to stop thinking about it. I've got an image of Cowdenbeath High Street wrapping itsel round my brain as I write this. I can hear the rattle of the wind blowing the 'Moltke McLean Chemist' sign on any Sunday night in Kinghorn where my folks stay tae. Utter desolation. Nobody leaves the house. Why would they? Where are they all? Watching 'You've Been Framed' and bemoaning their lot. Oh fuck I've got anothershit day at 'Logomotives'/ Strand Lighting' the morn. Then I've got to take 'the bairn' to Tae Kwon Do at the Lochgelly Centre. These fucking ways of life. When I die it will of course 'be with a drink in my hand' but then afterwards if I ever find that any part of my remains or the post match bash had any connection wi' Fife, I'll force myself back 'to be one mile high and I would kill you all'. So there...I'd better move on...Left KB. He went back to Kdy (!) and I pondered for a while before breaking the bank to see Mark Eitzel. This guy is another of thae 'neo-hero' figures that I have. Some of the words he's strung together over the years mark him as genius. His songs are heartbreaking, wrenching, funny, bittersweet, mordant, bitter. Go check him out yersel but..his music's meant a fair bit to me, particuarly the 'Songs Of Love-Live ' LP. I suppose I should give ye a few quotes to let you know why I dig him so much...'There's nothing for me in the world outside. There's just some things that I see from the side. I'm just a shy boy sitting in a house when everyone is gone from now on' or how about 'Caught a small scene on my mom's TV. She watched it when she was lonely at night. Oh God I hate you. Telling me what's gonna happen the rest of my life' Aye. Anyway. I saw him play a stunning show in Edinburgh last year. I'd been waiting to see him on his own without a band for years and years and the experience of finally seeing itwas something. Sunday wasn't quite the same but was still great. The man comes across as part wreck, part sussed performer and sometimes the self deprecation and the self consciousness took over tonight. He coasted with some songs and played a lot of material that he seemed a bit fed up with as well as some things he didn't seem familiar with at all. Highlights were an intense snarly version of the seminal 'Patriot's Heart' and a rather lovely cover of 'Heart and Soul' which I've heard him play before but which is still perfect for him to do. He brings out all the bitterness therein... I would have liked him to slip the reins more but he didn't always appear in the mood to take off as he did last year. There was a different tone to the show but it still was a far better one than most sets you'll see. I spoke to him too- twice. He asked what the time was. I was standing right in front of him so I told him. He looked in my direction. I liked that. I requested a song too. I said 'could you do 'Take Courage'? He apologised but said he didn't know it. He started playing a bit but gave up. A shimm...'Take courage Take courage said the sign. I used to wait for it every morning but now I know that it was just another warning' Indeed. I felt my mood lift after this. True the support band were shite (and their student pals were everywhere too. Their guest list was never ending) and I paid £14 for an hours entertainment (that's just wrong) but I got 'something' out of it and no doubt. I walked up the road. I was in an odd mood. Felt ok and wasn't thinking too much about TLK. I even felt a whiff of possibility for 5 mins, I really did. Was thinking about the power of lovelorn, deep, piquant songwriting. Conventional as a thought of this ilk may be, I didn't care....went back to the shithole and had a settled night...Mon..felt the drifting kick in. Why can't I cast off these habits? I live up to the expectations for someone of my size ie to be literally weighed down by ballast. I give in to it so easily. Got a call from the Agency I applied to last week. They wanted to cancel the interview til Thur. I was ok with it. It gave me more time to waste. I noticed halfway through the day that the frequency of the 0870 calls had slowed. One of the financial institutions finally left a message and a txt. It was clear as mud. I didn't respond. Nae further cals since then. Maybe the heavy squad are on their way. Just as well I didn't tell them my new address then. Thought re what to do to make something of the day. Didn't have much money. Managed to arrange an overdraft facility with the new bank..what the???....went to see The Three Burials of etc etc at The Cameo...there were too many couples there as is ayways the case when you go to to see a fillim at night. How many times have I told you all this? It comes up every time. I've had enough of all the whispering when I come into the cinema aisle ie virill female says to virill male "I hope he doesn't sit there". I wish they'd realise that my hearing this virtually guarantees I will sit there right in front of them just to annoy the bastards. Obviously being from 'a certain class' they will be too polite to tell me to move and will instead, in certain ways, mostly through further chatting within earshot of me, imply that I should move.. well hear's my stock reply: "I don't think so"...Didn't like the fillim. It was empty and showy. Some of the acting was poor. Notably Barry 'Cec' Pepper tho' old Tommy Lee's character wasn't the most fully sketched I've ever seen either. Some weird stuff in there. Some characters drop out without warning and there are moments of ropy contrivance. It just didn't seem 'right' to me. No amount of lovely shots of canyons and mountain goats could pull it oot the mire. I walked up the road. It seemed a dark night. Back to midwinter. My mood sank to meet it. I'll be seeing TLK again in a few hours. I'll have to face work and all that goes with it. My mood was further tried by the presence of a couple snogging directly ootside ma front door when I got back tae the shithole. It's a ground floor flat with a front door directly off the street into the room. I get very sheepish re opening the door if there's folk outside. They'll see the squalor and all the peculiarities. Took a coupla laps round the block. They were still there. Wandered along Gorgie. This takes me near to where TLK's best pal stays. Whenever I'm along that way it makes me think of her. I could have done without this. Made a sharp turn and headed back before ma head exploded. The osculatory swine were gone. I shut the door behind me. Tuesday was just off kilter and off key. The world was awry. Sprinkly squally showers. Biting wind. Sunshine. Gorging on chocolate. TLK. TLK. TLK. I went in to the work feeling like fucking shit. Didn't want to be there. Didn't want to face anything. Nobody in when I arrived. The phone went in the office. I told it to fuck off. It didn't listen. I ignored it twice. Not 'recommended' employee conduct of course. It was TLK. She had her professional voice on. She was with a client. A bit of an emergency again. I went doon and helped her. She was on good form again. This annoyed me even more. The recollection of her ever changing mood last week twisted my mind into new levels. I got bullish. I got stupid. I couldn't bear to be nice to her, to speak to her normally. I was going to be nasty. I would show her. I did a lot of grunting. I conversed a wee bit re work but just couldn't talk 'normally' to her if she asked anything outside of that. She inquired "Did you have a good weekend?" I didn't know what to say. I said " what?" or "eh..?" or something in between the two. She continued anyway. "Did you do anything special?" I laughed, said "anything special?" and walked off. Of course doing things like this to TLK are just utterly stupid. She didn't bat an eyelid. It would have come across as manipulative and subconsciously and a bit fully consciously too, it was. I wanted her to ask me if I was ok, maybe I was trying to force her into this to make some kind of point. What a stupid bastard I am. She kept trying. Not sure whether she just wanted to seem as if she was being pally or she was being pally. It's impossible to tell with her. She pretended to spray me with some cleaner she had in her hand. I forced a smile and tried to make it look like I was forcing it. The day progressed in this vein. She kept being 'nice' most of the day with just a wee bit of frostyness in her usual style when ever I forgot my sulk and got more friendly. I felt terrible all day. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to keep being grumpy. It was all I felt capable of. I wasn't quite as bad with other folk. I'm sure she noticed that. I didn't say anything to her during the team meeting we had in the afternoon. I looked away as much as I could, difficult to do when you want to look at her face all the time but I managed it. I spoke as little as possible. I didn't respond when she said anything remotely friendly. After other folk had gone she said "you seem down today". Don't think she actually specifically asked if I was ok but kind of implied it in her usual ultra cool way. I just grunted. She said "you're not a happy bunny. Are you going to talk to anyone?" I fucking hated this. I nearly exploded inside and choked on all my self pity and forced bile. It was yet more detachment from her. "I want to talk to you". That's what I was dying to say but I just laughed and sneered "talk to someone?". This ended the conversation. I felt like a total arsehole which was what I had been all day. I was furious at her for reasons unknown even to me. Her reserve and fucking poise are just driving me up the wall. She's in control at all times. I hate it. I miss talking to her. I miss the times of thinking we were pals even if we weren't. I miss drinking with her. I miss her. It's impossible for me to spend time with her now for the good of my health. I know it. She knows it, I think or does she? The rest of the day seemed to last forever. Tedious work. Pen pushing. Also noticed a nippy message from the boss. I wanted to smash up the office but made do with bouncing an eraser off the message board a few times. It made a nice dead sound. Went out and saw a few clients. Came back and there was a message on the machine from her. I phoned her back. I wanted it to be about something personal like I had never wanted anything to that extent before. It wasn't. She had got pee from a client's catheter bag in her eye earlier. It had started giving her gyp. She asked if I could leave a msg saying she would be in late tomorrow so she could buy some eyewash. Pure farce. That was the end of the conversation. I was civil, I guess. The situ I had got masel into was a total shambles. I started to laugh after she hung up but just ended up greetin. What am I doing? Racing back towards insanity, that's what. The tendrils thereof delayed my writing of notes so that I went about an hour over ma time. I hate this fucking life. DT said that to me a lot when he was dying. I've said it a lot to masel. Wasn't sure where to go. A takeaway seemed a good bet. ISH phoned. It was well timed. We spoke for a long while as I walked about ostensibly trying to find Morningside just cause I knew it was leafy and a bit boho. Ended up in an industrial wasteland somewhere in Slateford. I have never seen so many railway arches in one place at the same time. It seemed like a scene from 'Naked'. Schemies were all over the pliss too. ISH always has plenty of interest to say. I don't think I did last night but he was unfailingly polite as ever. It was good to hear from him. We don't talk enough. Communication issues seem to be my speciality. I was going to say that that is just a current thing but it's always been thus. Ended up back in Gorgie. TLK reappeared in my mind. I didn't want her there...well I did but I pretended to block out all thoughts of her. That's the way my mind works most of the time. Up far too early today to go to Glasgow for another workshop re the SVQ charade. Not doing any work on this and am 'currently suspended' anyway (don't ask). The subject matter, ironically enough, was 'personal development'. Fucking hell. I think I sat through it for the duration but I can't guarantee that. I quite simply wasn't there. I was thinking about other things ALL THE TIME. It was so dull and appeared irrelevant to me. The tutor asked me a question from time to time. I was thinking about you know who whenever she asked them. I think I managed to answer her. I can't remember. I'm not sure I was there at all. Or maybe I was. I recall seeing the 'chief exec' (it appears I in fact work for UniLever PLC) in the office wearing a natty off the shoulder dress. It was 9.40 AM. Just another day in the office. She didn't speak to us unfortunate minions. I was dying to ask her how she would manage on £1,039 (approx) per month but of course...Intended to hang around after and go to Mono for a while. Felt some financial pangs and got bewildered. I got the train back. I needed some seclusion and to nod off for a while. I got on the slow train. There's never anyone on it and it stops everywhere. It's very slow. It turned out that the carriage was overrun with schemies in Celtic beanies. I fell asleep anyway. Thankfully none of them tried to set me on fire when I was asleep. All the time I was away today I ate. I've done it constantly for the last few days in fact. I feel ravenous all the time. I ate 2 pasties and at least 3 chocolate bars today plus other junk later on. I shall soon be at the level where they have to knock the wall of the shithole down to get me out of here after my inevitable infarction. Came back. Whacked off for a while (sorry...). It was totally unsatisfying...no really. Agreed to meet CH later. We chatted for a good while. I drank Hot Chocolates...more bulk...I felt very manic. I was fried. Restlessness was at large. Made it back near to the shithole. Went to old Maisie Mossco's for a while. Chloe Sevigny wasn't there. Neither was I...

These Nights In The Kiwi/ Don't you Go Drinking None O' That Buggy Water

2006-04-01T10:21:00.000-08:00

All the things that go through yer mind. Weekend. Little happening. I find masel mired in patterns. Ways of being. These may not do me any good but I defend them anyway. On my days off without fail I sit around for most of the day gorging on junk food, getting fed up, 'browsing' nefarious parts of the interweb, feeling hopeless, incapable. Lately I've wanted to get my act together sufficiently to write something other than the blog. I've started a coupla bits and pieces but part of my head always finds excuses which defeat me. All the time I was ill I tried to 'defend my right' to waste time. I used to get quite indignant with folk who tried to get me to do anything, to stratch masel. That's when the avoidance would start, when I cut folk off. How dare they try to get me moving. I'm going to stay here and cultivate my own special brand of misery. I felt like this for some time. I just wanted to be on my own. I hated the thought of seeing people. The paranoia always started when I met folk. After a while of not seeing people I would get paranoid that they weren't talking to me and 'had given up on me' etc etc. In addition to this I was so lonely but I couldn't bring myself to make the effort to break through the shit and spend time wi' my pals etc. I've felt a lot of these feelings coming back lately, usually whenever I have a day off. I lose masel when I have 'spare' time stretching oot in front o'me. I didn't work for nigh on 8 years. I've had a lot of spare time in ma life which I've pissed away. I spent it playin' wi masel (in every single sense o' the phrase), worrying about everything and anything, observing 'the world', sometimes from the sidelines but normally in ma heid and developing warped and skewed interpretations thereof and in generally feeling overwhelmed, lost, empty, disconnected. Literally 'out of step with the world'. I could have used this time to have made masel into a different person. I coulda been somebody. I could been a contenda etc etc. Well, I probably couldn't have been but I could have been thinner or better or...Now I'm left with this constant feeling of unease, of dissatisfaction, of disquiet. I spent so long on my own and in reverse gear that I don't seem to be able to change these instincts. This feeling of a dull ache dug in for most of the first part of the day. Did a bit of cricket watching but it was mostly furtive stuff with part of me telling the other to move and to get out probably so I could eat food and spend money. At 4 or so I finally got oot. I went down to the work and returned a set of keys which I'd went home with the other day. Was going to walk (2-3 miles) and was full of brave plans to this effect but completely unsurprisingly decided to bus it. Realised this would take me through TLK country. Maybe that's why I bused it, so I could fixate on the faint chance o' catching a sly glimpse oot the windae rather than possibly bump into her on the street if I walked. My head was not in the right place. The route down to the work is full of haunts where I used to drink with her or that I associate with her. Shit man, we never even 'went out'. On the way down everywhere I looked I saw her. Many many 'possible' sightings. Whenever I came across one of these I tried not to look but ended up looking and making it very obvious. This must have seemed outwardly dodgy if anyone was watching me or was being watched by me. It felt wrong to me but I kept doing it. I've thought about her all day today. This isn't unusual but I thought it would have eased off by now. It hasn't. The sane part of me wants it to change. The mad part doesn't. It wants to keep me tormented and away from anything constructive, ruminating on her and dreading/waiting for a chance to see her. How long can this go on man? I think I need to get totally away from work and from here. In the early stages of knowing her, when I realised how I felt, I started having these instinctive feelings to 'escape' and I started hankering after a move to Glasgow. I like certain aspects of the place eg Mono (!) but I find it kinda 'too big'. I get lost without fail through there. I also wouldn't really know a good area to stay from a bad area. At the moment any financial stuff is way 'out of my budget'. No idea how I would get round that. If I have to leave the shithole I might in all honesty be facing a temporary move back to the parents as I'm not sure how I would raise a deposit and a' that. I am trying not to think about that as ...be warned for forthcoming high melodrama quotient...thoughts of 'the bridge' move in whenever I do. Look man, I'm not Brian Molko or Trent Reznor. Melodrama and romanticising 'a beautiful death' are no my style. Death at times seems welcoming and strangely neat and tidy to me. Of course it isn't any of these. I find it hard to rationalise my thoughts. Recently I've started to feel a sense of 'having no way out'. That's what's brought on all this bullshit. I have been thinking in practical terms re how I would do it. I want something oddly showy. I've been anti-showy a' my time but on occasion I've done needy things to try and attract attention or company or compliments. I know I've done these. They ain't cool. I keep doing them tho'. It would be rather apt if I jumped off somewhere and it turned into a teacup size media circus ie 'sad man jumps off the gasworks roof and kills poodle' etc. There is bound to be an element of farce to it somehow. My whole life has felt like a farce but without any of the bed hopping of course. More like a working class Childrens Film Foundation version. I was clearly ill equipped to 'get on in life'. Every time I try I feel truly ridiculous. Not sure where these thoughts take me or where they leave me. I feel as if I need to express how I've felt lately but dwelling on certain vibes is pretty useless I suppose. There's not much more to report today. I've totally wasted it. I'm writing this and I'm trying to find some positives on the day. There aren't any. I suppose I'm still here tho' that's not much consolation right now...shit...

Have you got any more cartridges?

2006-03-31T08:05:00.000-08:00

So aye the Friday vibe. Maybe 'you lot' start to get excited at the prospect of the weekend and of cuddling up tae yer 'other half' with the increasingly ever present 'nice bottle of wine' on Fri night, of traipsing through BHS and going to Mamma Mia's Pizzeria on Saturday followed by Garden Centres , Afternoon Jam sessions at Twattinnas and dropping off in front of 'Family Fortunes' on the Sun. Aye you nubiles, you've never had it so good. Us lumpy ones have far fewer patterns to follow. This particular leaden pall tends to work at the weekend so Dobbies, Lambrini and Joe's Band don't get much of a look in. I don't get the 'cuddles' (I fucking hate the use of the word in that context. Go log on to a dating site if you want to see what I mean) that you get as a given either. I have to put up with 'ma ain company' in all it's cadaverous form. ...Ma mind's digressing. If only the horticultural chain of Sunday torpour was named after Captain Dobey instead? Well that would be different. Come and have a weekend in Cowdengelly with Bernie Hamilton. I would like that. In fact that'll be the concept for my next serious on UK Living. McLuckie and his Massive Belly spend time in shite Fife towns with obscure/long lost celebs. How 'bout a few jars of Sweetheart Stout in 'Clem's' wi' Kim Mayzelle/ A white pudding supper at Toby's Fish Bar, Thornton with Carl Lumbly or Macaroni Cheese at The Lister, Chinatoon wi' Patricia Brake. Anyway, what am I trying to say? Not quite sure....I think I'm aware that the weekend maybe holds a fair bit o' oomph if you've got some one tae spend it wi' but a guid bit less so if you don't or is that just me being an erse again? I'm reeling into schtick territory certainly. I am off this weekend but impending financial meltdoon may begin to restrict ma 'social life' or the amoont o' fillims I go to/ pizzas I buy and so forth. Looked at my bank a/c yesterday and realised what I had to pay out in d/d's for the rest of the month. It's not looking good. I'm going to have to borrow from somebody or attempt to gain more credit. Yes, I know it's stupidity. I phoned the debt counsellor yesterday but I'm not seeing her until next Fri. I paid off the overdue amount owing on a telly that I bought a while back. This has stopped the 0870 calls. The 0800 calls continue apace. Most of my credit cards are registered at another address- the last pliss I stayed in Kirkcaldy. I didn't do this in a 'crimes of dishonesty' way. I just couldn't be bothered changing them over. Don't think they've got my phone number and the redirection I had on ma mail has just expired. I'm not going to answer the phone without 'taking advice' so I won't hear from them 'til the counsellor makes contact to plead for a rejig o' the payments unless they send the heavy squad to the door. I should not jest. Think the 0800 no. is probably ma old bank. I had a loan with them which is not getting paid. I had one o' their credit cards too as well as an overdrawn amount on ma a/c. No wonder they're chasing me. I owe them most of the 50 G's. Shit. I've suddenly started giggling. I feel a bit like a confidence trickster writing this all down. Call me the Paul Bint of Gorgie/Dalry. I've never intended to defraud anyone or con cash out of them. I've just been rather 'irresponsible' wi' my financial affairs!! (no shit..)... Cannae mind a lot about last night. Left Maisie's and ended up in the shithole. Gorged on fatty foods late at night as ever and then watched mair of 'The Last Picture Show'. It was great ie the latter if not the former tho' in all honesty the former had something going for it too. Crashed out early. Had a lengthy sleep but still felt shattered. The weather was awful early on. Very cold. Wet. Raw and damp. This did not help ma mood. There was a total change round about 2-ish and it genuinely did get 'Bryter Layter'. This connection cheered me until I remembered that TLK likes Nick Drake too. I can mind discussing the BL LP at length with her. Whenever I spoke with her about ND I would end up feeling as if I was deeply deeply in love with her. It was a nice buzz for a while. This connection weirded me out. Of course 5 mins after this TLK visited the office. She seemed cheery again. She came down to return a works phone she had lifted by mistake. She brought it in and said " There's your fucking phone". It was a joke but I didn't laugh. Spoke with her re a wee gaffe I'd just made. The cheeryness ebbed slightly. She seemed to be forcing hersel to smile. She went off. She said cheerio. I didn't reply. She came back with something and said cheerio again. I didn't reply this time either. Maybe not that cool but I didn't appear to be able to bring myself to do it. I'd thought earlier re txting her about some news frae the work. I didn't do it. It seemed too 'friendly'. I didn't know what mode she would have been in when she took the txt. This fucked with my head. It might have been seen as me 'trying to be friendly'. I didn't want to come across as that. I know that she wouldn't have thought to tell me about it but she would have told KS. I thought better of it and didn't bother telling her. She'll find out soon enough. This exchange got me down again. I'm so angry at her but at the same time I would jump at the chance to spend time with her and chat even tho' that would mess me up even more. What does she think about me? Does she think about me at all? Does she think like how I've described? or is she genuine/consistent after all? I find it impossible to tell. I don't know how to read her. I'm sure many folk over the years have been described as 'complex'. IMO there is 'complex' and then there is TLK but of course I'm probably wrong..am I? FUCK...Work was quiet today. Dull. I was lethargic. Couldn't get into it. After I left it seemed wrong to be experiencing sunshine and warmth. I'll bet the more normal of you nubiles are getting the 'barbies' out as I write this. I really envy normal folk. That's not a joke. At the start of my 3 days off I'm thinking about being somewhere other than here and of being someone else. That would be nice. Or at least I think it would.

Thee Headcoatees

2006-03-30T08:26:00.000-08:00

I'll start as I mean to go on...There are times when I feel that there's not much more I can get out of life. My collection of impulses and responses do not produce zest in anyone and my physical make up appears to have the composition of the 'thing' in Eraserhead ie It's not quite apparent what I am. A growed up sexual animal is not what I am, that's for certain. Because of my life long lack of 'action' (thanks TLK) part of me does not feel human. This is a shallow and vacuous thing to say, I'm aware of that but it is a thought I've harboured for some time. Some of the citizens of the world that you meet are not 'pretty' but without fail I reckon that 'they' are all 'getting a lumber' and they are all attractive/desirable and so forth to a few. When I get down I start to feel that I haven't been 'invited' and that the the world is a stag's only club. These and other thoughts surrounded and bewildered me when I left the land o' the Interweb last night. Couldn't handle being alone. Didn't know what to do. Had the torrent of thoughts back. The T.O.T is a 'thing' of mine. When I'm ill I have this feeling of being assaulted by thoughts which fly at me faster than I imagined I could ever manage to think. They are all negative. Most (level one) tell me that I can't do one thing or the other and that I'll never amount to anything etc etc. Some of the thoughts pick up on aspects of an act, pick out the damaging, dangerous and illegal therein and attempt to batter me into submission with the consequences and the details of these (level 2) eg I once heard on the news that someone had been raped and killed. Soon after I read this I started getting this stream of shit that said 'You did it. You know you did. You want to do it again' . As soon as I had got myself away from this stream and realised that ...eh...no I didn't...the head moved on regardless to pointing out the consequences of doing it (level 3). For days and days I thought I was going to jail, I would be villified, I would be hounded. Over the years since I first had this type of feeling, I've had countless episodes. It seems to be brought on by thinking about things which I abhor the most or am most afraid of. I convince myself that I've done wicked horrendous acts or that I am about to be 'found out' for all manner of things, fuck knows what. I genuinely felt at first that I was hearing a voice of some kind. The thoughts came so quickly and established themselves so strongly that it seemed as if they were coming from outside me. Surely I wouldn't bring this on myself, would I? I was convinced that I had a serious illness. Everyone played the thoughts down when I spoke about them. This de-escalation/ lack of positive re-inforcement (fucking hell) often seemed to work and I've gradually managed to keep them down and at bay. I still get anxious but the last major episode I had of this was just before I moved to Edinburgh a year ago. I was convinced that I was going to attack people in the street, push them downstairs, throw objects at them etc. It seemed so real. I couldn't even consider that I wouldn't do it. Whenever I told masel that I knew I wouldn't do anything, I got the follow on thoughts re what jail would be like and 'how long I would get inside'. When I have this, it is the most frightening thing I've experienced. Maybe I am strong after all. When I think of the amount of situations in which I've probably come across as 'normal' and as if I'm 'getting on with things' when inside I am in fact fixated on how I'm about to strangle someone or how I'm going to do something 'erratic/crazy/damaging etc etc. Maybe you wouldn't have known anything was wrong but I can assure you that I felt completely messed up whenever I had this. It seemed as if my brain was using 99% capacity on nourishing/ fighting these thoughts and that I was doing work tasks/ functioning/ living on the other 1%. These days I put it down to living in Fife. That place just defeated me. I had so many feelings of negativity and horror re what it 'meant' to be a Fifer and to live there. The thoughts pretty much aren't there anymore. They made a minor re-appearance last night but only for a short time. I know it wasn't the full blown warfare like I've had in the past. Whenever I've seen a GP or a CPN or a shrink, they put it down to a manifestation of anxiety. At the time I first got them I was convinced I was a schizophrenic and that I was dying. I know now that neither were the case. I think the health folk were probably right re the source being anxiety. My mind got so wound up with dealing with day to day situations that it ran amok and took over. My mum once told me that she had similar problems when I was young. She couldn't go into a cutlery drawer because she started thinking that she was about to pull out a knife and stab someone. I remember talking about the thoughts with KB. One of the best rebuttals I've heard was when I told him that I was sitting there convinced that I was about to attack someone and carry out acts of violence. He said that I was 'messing with cause and effect'. This helped to give me some clarity and convince myself that I probably wasn't going to do anything after all. Maybe these days I'm less anxious. I can handle stuff more. Not sure what helped me to achieve this but getting away from the massive inferiority complex I had built up around being a failure in Fife helped big time. Sorry for another lengthy detour. Felt as if I needed to explain certain things. I understand some of the 6 and a half of you who read this might well dash off and call the police now but hell...so to come back to last nights 'reality'...the T.O.T was mostly about the aforementioned attractiveness and my lack of it...it was scale one T.O.T and it left quickly...to be replaced by more conventional but still damaging dwelling on the TLK situ. Felt truly alone. I also felt annoyed at TLK for what I perceived as her moodiness and her 'ways' but also desperately wanted to be with her. I would like to think that being with anyone would have sufficed tho'. Trudged through the rain wi' holes in both ma boots (ha..there's always been a Marcel Marceau element to ma schtick) in amongst a somewhat nondescript part o' town. It was oddly apt that I should end up in a Summerfield store. Restored a semblance of equilibrium when I noticed that Lars Von Trier appeared to be working at the deli counter. This did provide a waft of cheer, reinforced when I walked hame wi' ma nutritionally balanced (all junk...natch) bag of shopping and overheard a paroxided lass talking on a phone outside a grog hoose near the shithole. She was barking into her moby. She snapped "aye, I can go aw day on that Gin and Tonic. You should ken that". Another snippet of genius frae the Gorgie/Dalry vaults. I got hame and pissed about for a bit. Watched the start of 'The Last Picture Show'. Think I'm the only person in the world who's never seen this. It certainly starts well. Slept rather edgily. Constant feelings of there being an odd light in the room. Thought I heard the phone going in the middle of the night. I remember thinking that it was a sign of the financial service police being about to break down the door and 'find me out' (see above). In the morning I realised that it had in fact been KB phoning in case I was up which I usually am. It does appear that paranoia kicks in from time to time...woke up on Thursday mornin'. Felt totally shattered. Didn't want to go into work. Made myself get moving. Into the shower and off. The closer I got to the work, the more paranoid and irrational I began to feel. I knew TLK was supposed to be in with me first thing. I was 15 or so mins late. She wasn't there. Something snapped inside. I was totally convinced that she was doing it on purpose, that she was late just cause she didn't want to be alone with me and to 'have to' talk to me. I really did lose it for a while. I spoke out loud to myself. I started thinking that she was doing the 'avoidance' thing that is familiar to us anxious folk. I remembered how often I had done that when I couldn't face certain situs and people. It felt really horrid now that, in my mind, I was on the 'receiving end'. I rambled away. 'I know how she works. She's doing it on purpose.' As soon as I said this the key turned in the lock. She came in. I regained my composure. The blonde bits in her hair had gone already. She was happy. She asked me how I was. I grunted a bit. She didn't want an honest answer anyway, I know that. Nobody does when they ask that question. She seemed on good form. I opened up a wee bit. The tone got friendlier. She comes across as the loveliest person on earth when she's like this. Shit man, I have never seen anything like her smile...it APPEARS to be pure distilled warmth. It's a heady, giddy sight for me. Of course like yesterday whenever she comes across as if she's yer pal, I respond likewise. This is always...imo... where it starts to go wrong with her and me. We both went off and saw some clients. I bumped into her on the stairs. She was coming down. I hadn't seen her. She went 'BOO' as she appeared round the corner. She was bright and beaming from ear to ear. It was a special sight for me. I saw her later. Right away I resumed in pally mode. This was clearly the wrong thing to do. She didn't react to much I said. Later she got very 'directive' re a work matter. She snapped at me when I was trying to find some info for her. I couldn't take it. I stopped talking. I threw a piece of paper onto the desk. She said "What's up? You look in distress". I laughed. I snapped back "nothing". I was fucking gone again. I didn't talk to her outside of essential work stuff for the rest of the day. I couldn't. She's always had a manner while doing some work stuff that irks me. The strong personality comes into play at these times. I know that she believes she can do the job better than me and doesn't like me doing anything she could do herself. She has to take charge and she does. There were a few examples of manoeuvering today and I didn't like them. I've always hated this feeling. I've experienced it from a few folk, some at work and some neebors too. They can't handle the feeling of you maybe doing something that might in some way be seen as 'representing' their efforts or their work. They have to take charge and they make it obvious. I get totally flummoxed by this. I am not a big/strong personality and I cave in at these times, like I did today. The folk who do this are of course fully aware that I will collapse. I always present as helpless when this goes down. I'll make self- deprecating comments which sound as if I'm reinforcing or agreeing with what they're doing too. I couldn't take what she was doing. I felt devalued. She's been desperate to take over some work I've been doing and she did it today. I feel right now as if I can't work with her anymore. The stress of seeing her every day and having to communicate with her through various moods is too much. Again I'm not always that brilliant at dealing with peoples moods or with folk who can't cover up the way they're feeling that well. TLK, being a strong steely character, becomes distant and impossible when she's hacked off and that gets put across to you or at least it does to me. I'm hyper aware of it. It doesn't seem as if she's quite as abrupt with others, it really doesn't. She used to say that she noticed my own moods and got worried that I was annoyed at her. I have to say that I didn't believe she was worried at the time and I still don't now. She may have noticed my mood being down but she probably wasn't thinking about it all. Back then it maybe suited her to show or project that she cared or something like that. I wish I could be honest with her but I'm not going to tell her how I feel. It would cause a lot of mental strife for me. She would play the dead bat like she did the day I told her I was annoyed with her when I stormed out. Me making those comments has clearly effectively ended any suggestion of us being pals. She has cut me off in her own way. I didn't expect anything different to be honest. I think I know her pretty well...maybe I'm delusional. I believe that she doesn't 'do' self reflection. She doesn't want to consider anything which she thinks might be 'heavy' or fall into categories such as that. But I also knew she would never directly address this with me or tell me how she felt. Maybe she never valued me as anything at all which is in hindsight probably the case but ultimately I think it's just her being her. She can't or doesn't want to face 'hassle' and so she passes her feelings on to you by some bits of action but mostly by implication while maintaining a veneer of a status quo. I don't like that. I know that by writing all this I risk coming across as obsessed or a lunatic. I don't believe I'm the former. I might be the latter. I also know I'm not an arsehole. I've done some daft things in every friendship I've had and every situ I've been in but I hope I've not hurt folk. If I did then it was unintentional and was out of pure stupidity or confusion. I've been thinking re how she would feel if she ever read this blog. She would probably be annoyed. She might well think I'm freaky or mad. She might well call the police. Don't think she would be 'hurt' as such. You might not think TLK exists but she does. She lives and breathes. I probably paint a bad picture of her. I try to present what I think is an honest picture of everyone I write about in here. I believe I come across worse. I'm the one who's wasting my time endlessly dwelling on her, who's thinking of situations over and over and getting messed up by them. KB often says that I jump to conclusions (always negative ones) re how a person's feeling on a certain situation. He's mentioned that I've always tended to fear the worst about TLK. This is maybe true. All this ie my idea of what she makes of me etc etc might be in my head, it really might. The truth is probably somewhere between the two. I feel so many different emotions from every wee encounter with her. I think she's an amazing human being. I can honestly say that I find her almost impossible to read. I have categorised her as every single 'type' of person at one time. She doesn't fit in anywhere. My feelings about her change by the minute. She's exciting to be around. She's also utterly exhausting not because she's manic or outwardly erratic but because I don't know where I stand with her and I have the feeling at times that she's playing me like a fiddle. I'm not sure whether she struggles with her emotions and/or her 'nerves' or not. Sometimes it feels clear to me that she does. I've seen her get very upset and emotional but other times she seems so detached that I can't imagine her allowing herself to go there. I know there have been times when she has got embarassed and upset when she thinks she has maybe given too much away about her life and her past. This could just be an indicator that she doesn't feel right telling me about these things. I can only go by what I've seen and how I reckon she's acted towards me. From what I've seen she controls as many aspects of her life as she can and she doesn't go into any 'emotional' areas if she can possibly help it. She's good at getting certain things she wants. She is possibly the strongest person I've met. She comes across to me as being in control at all times. I tend to believe that she comes across as that because she is! Increasingly I reckon she shows you nothing more than what she wants to. I struggle when I feel folk put on as controlled an act as she maybe does. Every one puts on an act of some kind. That's how we survive. Nobody truly knows how someone else thinks either. I put on a different kind of act from her. Why am I still thinking about her? Well because I can't seem to stop, because she is the type of person who gets inside you, because I see her day to day, because I 'love' her I suppose or at least because I fancy her if you want to be crass, because she is everything at all times, because she's a whirlwind, but mostly because I'm a daft bloke who happens to like 'her type' and who is predisposed to thinking about something rather than nothing...We're both 'flawed' but then again we are human beings...shit...
So oddly enough after a Stelios flirtation I'm back at Maisie's. CS is here. She's still great. On the way here I saw at least 3 couples who consisted of very tall guys and wee lasses (I'm 6 foot 3. TLK is barely 5 foot). This was a truly funny thing to have witnessed at this time. I started thinking about my horoscope (it has indeed come to this) in The Metro today...and I quote..' At the very root of your personality, some change is afoot which will alter your daily routine. Whether this means you move house or storm out of your job depends on how the next few days pan out' ..freaky, huh? How do I feel right now? Tired, messed up, poor, fat, desperate, uncertain?...aw these...still thinking about 'the bridge'...it seems like a welcoming place but of course it isn't...

No More Hospitality, No More Hospitals At All

2006-03-29T08:49:00.000-08:00

So it's Wed. I'm in a different part of the land of the Interweb from the one I'm normally in. Don't know why I've temporarily abandoned old Maisie Mossco. I like going there. It's a wee rough and ready place with nice coffee and some invasive pot plants. Blokes come in and play online poker for hours and hours. They only have a few records which they play on a loop- they have a Supergrass record which I think is great. Maybe I should keep that to masel. Chloe Sevigny works there too. However it's also way way expensive and their stereo plays way way too much Jamiroquai. Not that any amount of that wee shites music is acceptable but anyway. I've jumped ship to the kingdom of Wunder Stelios. These Easy Everything plisses have relatively cheap access to the Interweb but have nae 'soul' or atmosphere tae them at all. It feels as if you're in a cheap office trying to sell Timeshare appartments to retired folk frae Sleaford. I miss the opperchancity to turn round and see CS looking dreamily out the window or of observing the Simon Whitlock man in full flight shouting at his 'sheila' over the phone. In 'ere you sit in rows like you're about to lay an egg and try not to look at anyone sitting near to you. The ends of the rows are always the most popular..GET AWAY FROM THE HUMAN RACE..I mean I have spent most o' ma life in a solitary funk but these days I don't like being reminded that we live in a world where 'double seat double seat gotta gotta get a double seat' is the name of the game...fucking Ben Elton. Bring him on, I'll tell him a few things he'll never forget...so last year last night...spent a long time after leaving the house of Haji-Ioannoua meandering and being aware that I was truly desperate to speak to someone who knows me, who understands, who wants to listen. I was also intermittently desperate to jump off the Forth Road Bridge but I appear to still be here. Couldn't think of anyone who would be around. Started to get mad at myself for being a total asshole with regards to almost every aspect of ma life. I would like to say that it seemed bizarre to be in this situ but as I've probably said before I knew I would land in the shit some day. I've only been papering over the cracks for 35 years. This certainty does not provide any succour to my situ. I literally could not stop thinking about TLK. Every minute I thought differently about her and I thought of another aspect to her. The grandeur kicked in again. I will write about her and folk will read it. She will read it. She will understand me at last. I will let her see the blog. That'll show her. The time went by slowly. Sat up late and watched the rest of 'Interiors', one o' the few 'serious' Woody Allen films. I can't recommend it enough. Can't understand why he's made hardly any movies like this. It's rather Bergman but it's rather great. As I said yesterday, the matriarch character was surely written with Ma McLuckie in mind. I ken it's about an upper middle class academic family but there's so much more to it than being a stab at 'at home with the Ignatieffs'. I think you should all see it. The Geraldine Page role seemed eerily pertinent to ma ain experience of maternal strife. Earlier in the day I had read a horoscope for Capricorn in a crappy magazine at the work. This was scary too. It went on about 'the need to make a fresh start' and shit like that. Yon air of dislocation piled in again. This wasn't all happening. I was reading about a fat unfortunate. Maybe his torso had been found in a suitcase like the poor bastard who was discovered at The Shore in Leith a few years back. Micky Buerk would intone as to how he was nothing but a 'lone madman' similar to somebody who slashes MP's with swords. Last night wasnae much fun. Look folks, being on yer ain when you don't want to be is shite and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. I was hellish lonely. I also couldn't face the prospect of continuing to see TLK everyday. Her ways and the way I react to them are both bad news for me. I just wish she would tell me to fuck off and not put this half-cheeryness on display. She has massive reserves of strength. She can switch off anything. If she don't want to think about you, she won't. This should not bother me but it still does. ...I made it through the night. Seriously considered pulling a sickie today but got in half an hour late. Was deflated, knackered. Was also unwashed due to havin' nae time for a shower before leaving. This affected ma mood tae. Was grotty and felt accordingly. TLK came in at 12. Mair 'friendlyness'. She'd put blonde bits in her hair. She's done this before. They really don't suit her. Her hair had went stringy at the back and she commented on this. "How does it look?", she asked. I wanted to say how much I love her ginger hair, particularly when it's wild and all over the pliss but of course I would have been arrested if I'd said that. I said that I thought it clearly looked different from her normal colour. She considered this a normal reaction or at least I think she did. I realise now how much she keeps things hidden. She might have been thinking anything or she might have been thinking nothing at all. Who knows? There's a chance that she don't know either. She was pretty chatty at first. The rserve came in later when she returned to the office and I was there past my time. She thought I was hanging around to chat to her like I used to. A good few wee comments were made re 'why are you still here?' She disappeared through to the howf, put the telly on and SHUT THE DOOR. This isn't really a normal thing to do in the office. I went in and said cheerio. I was cheery in a plastic way. So was she. I went home again. Started to feel shit again. Had the phone turned off all day due to the financial services calls. This fact made me sadder. I felt annoyed at TLK. I also missed her right away. I missed what I wanted her to be, not what she really is. I know that now. I'm still so attracted to her. I have never met anyone who I have felt like this about. It''s a very odd situation..ha... It's dawning on me that I cannot handle seeing her every day. It's destroying me. I get caught up on questions of whether I've been honest with her, of whether I've been straight with her. I know that I've been bewildered by my feelings for her for a long time- I've known her a year to the day now- I didn't know what to do with my feelings. I didn't expect to feel like this about anyone in ma life. I still don't know what to do. Can't help but feel she thinks I'm 'heavy', I'm 'a downer'. I don't like folk feeling this about me even if I am these things. That's a character defect in itself. I associated TLK with being the only 'pal' or acquaintance I've made since I moved to the big city. She was, and is good company. I miss that. I miss being with her. She drives me nuts but I miss her. She don't feel that way about me. Even if she ever did she won't let on. I still find masel going over and over thae ideas of what she made of me. Did she really think I was a pal? I hope she did but in reality I wasn't. She's a huge mystery to me. I still want to get to the bottom of how she ticks. I'm going to have to leave this to ma shitty imagination..TLK turned to debt in ma mind. I'd phoned the counsellor on Mon to reschedule. Made a guddle of taking her call. I'll phone again the morn. She's not in on Tue and Wed. I paid a coupla things yesterday. The phone calls continued. I owe a removal firm £500. They have a load of ma stuff. I'm thinking mostly of this, for some reason. I want to see them tea towels again. Godamnit. Fucking hell...Got an interview with an agency for care workers on Mon. Will have to take shifts if they're offered. Also got an application ready for relief work wi another mental health and learning disability service provider. There appears to be no permanent jobs of this kind on the go the now. It ain't good. Maybe I'll end up in Tesco's Skid Row branch. While I've been typing this, I've gotten way way down. 'A couple' are next to me. I'm envious of their intimacy, their liking for each other, their mutual ease of being. These are aspects of living I've never known. I don't think I'll ever ken about them either...

Patterson Thompson

2006-03-23T16:06:00.000-08:00

Not sure I can recall much o' Tue night and Wed. I might move 'off message' (ha) and state that imo they merged into a soggy, saggy mess o' ma ain misery and boredom and loneliness and goddamn laziness...that would probably be a fair thing to say tho' I feel self conscious about saying that AGAIN. It seems that I'm trying to distance masel from ma ain thoughts now. I can guess that I left the house intending to 'wander' in a dramatic blowsy style on a few occasions and I know that I would have just came back to the shithole when I couldn't be bothered going further than the nearest foodie place. One thing I can mind about Tues night was KB phoning. I think he has psychic abilities. I was starting to dwell hard on the A-W rejection!!!!....fucking hell...you HAVE to allow me a few of 'them' there...but KB phoned without having read the blog and I was able to speak about it to the extent that a chunk o' perspective returned. Aye I liked her but I only knew her for a short time. I was daft to feel that she might possibly have 'liked' me. That was way too quick. I had quickly fallen into the old 'I am completely unattractive and I will never 'gan oot wi' a berd' ways. To me this feeling isn't delusional. It has become HARD FACT in ma heid. I've just had too much of a similar vibe when I've entered into these areas wi lasses. I know that I'm going to have to learn to get used to the solitary man thing. There are times when it seems off kilter romantic and appealing but these times are rare....anyway, to be honest with you folks I've felt wrong this week. All over the pliss. Debt's been on ma mind to a nastily intense level but I can't face doing anything about it. Facing up to it would mean cutting back and not being able to waste money. This has become an act that has defined me for some time now. There are very few things that I would readily admit to being 'good' at. Wasting money/time/ma ain resources (that can take many forms...make of that statement what you will) are undoubtedly some of them. In terms of money frittering, well I've found a lot of ways to do that eg gorging on junk food, using the Interweb outside when I pay for access in here, taking taxis to the other side of the town, being unable to resist temptation and generally living 'outside my means'. That's where most of the cash for the 'consolidation' loan went. Basically I pissed it away. Since TLK came on the scene I must have spent a fair whack on grog as well. At least I'm working on that, he says rather desperately. Making a conscious effort to avoid liquor. In a strange detour I had a drink on Tues night tho'. There was a tin o' Stella sitting in the fridge. It had been there since before Xmas. The night time's the right time to 'pull your shoulder out of it's socket and to ride on the rocket' etc. For me it's also the right time to feast on junk food. I'd eaten a large amount of stodge but forgot to buy any liquids. I had a raging thirst. The tap water in the shithole is undrinkable so I was looking at this tin for some time thinking how cold it would be. I thought fuck it and drank it quickly like a tin o' fizzy juice. Weird. It didn't feel at all as if I was drinking grog. I've been in bars a few times since then and stayed on the soft stuff. Internally I know I didn't see it as 'cheating' and I still ken that I do want to gie up the grog. I would like to think I'm going to manage this pretty well. It'll probably be another method for distancing masel frae TLK tae. I'm pretty certain she saw me as nowt mair than a drinking buddy and at times just wanted someone to accompany her into pubs. As much as 99% of me wants to phone her every part of the day and spend time with her (a slightly romanticised notion) but the 1% has to take over and work on methods for distance. These thoughts make ma heart sink but I just have to do them for the sake of ma sanity. I had started to think that just because I had 'fallen out with her' (that indicates a feeling that we were pals at one time. I know that TLK in her composed and contained way will never outwardly refer to us as being pals now) then I would feel differently about her. Last week has shown me that that is utter crap. I'm going to feel like this about her for a considerable period of time and I have to deal with it. It's as easy as that...Aye I'm a wasteful person with money. I like having the power to fritter. It's always appealed to me. I was 'oan the seek' (years of madness in Templehall) for years and had nae cash. Ever since I've been 'Fit And Working Again' (HA HA) I've loved spending freely. I had the feeling that everyone else was doing it so why not me? The shaggy ones never seemed to have money troubles. That was what brought in the credit cards and the loans and shit like that. That's what's brought me to the place I'm in now. Aye...the feeling o' ma heid being askew carried on into Wed. The hazy and detached feelings I had on the days of DT's death and his funeral have continued. It appears to me as if I can't catch up with my life even tho' I'm idling. Events are unfolding away from me and I can't do anything about them. Lasses I like don't want to see me again...hell...I'm over 50 G's in debt...ah well...I weigh over 20 stone...what do you want me to do about it?....I'm doing a lot of things that are very very very bad for me (maybe one day I will explain fully)...but I like doing them...Part of me has recognised I need to break away from these trains of thought but the main part can't kick into action and break though all this learned submission. My befuddlement didn't help with putting in a good honest day's work. I was on ma ain wi' an inexperienced agency worker and a relief member of staff who I don't always get on that great with. I had to take the lead in most matters which I can do because I do believe I know how to do my job but I never feel comfortable in terms of 'delegating' or assigning tasks. The relief person also doesn't like doing certain jobs and will attempt to get out of them as much as possible. The boss thinks she's great and supports her unfailingly, something she just doesn't do for TLK, KS and masel. She has complained to the boss about us on a number of occasions mostly along the lines of 'they keep giving me these jobs' etc etc. The boss takes these gripes on board verbatim and sees them as examples of her 'not being considered as part of the team' but, as ever, does not directly address them with you, preferring to feed them back to 'higher' management as examples of 'poor teamwork' and 'bad practice'. The boss's complaints and issues with you drip down eventually and I've gradually became aware of beefs she's had with me but neither her or the depute have ever raised them directly at supervision or in any other 'official' forum. Going back tae the relief worker there are a number of communication issues with her and she's very impatient when it comes to learning certain tasks, something which makes helping her with them very frustrating indeed. Spent most of Wed on the phone trying to sort out matters related to a client who had just come out of hospital. Again felt cast adrift 'and left to get on with it' and as if I was on ma ain...and I was...Poor back up procedures...staff shortages.....lack of staff training...the full works...poor vibes...I can sum up the rest of Wed by saying I left work, came to the land of the Interweb for a wee while...and began eating...you don't need to hear anymore...somehow crawled intae work on Thur. Totally knackered. The dislocation continued. It seemed as if the day hadn't started. I was asleep somewhere and dreaming, probably of TLK or a family size bag o' Doritos. The 0870 and 0800 numbers rang all day between 9 AM and 9PM. They're closing in. One day I'll maybe answer them. I don't feel like doing that now. I know that after a while folk will start coming to the door. I can handle the calls . I don't know if I can handle visits. I knew the day at work would be busy and it proved to be the case. Probably the busiest day I've ever had. No exaggeration. Constant ringing phones. Lots of work in the diary. No time to write notes which meant I had to stay behind and do them. Stayed 2 and a half hours over my time, being constantly interrupted by more calls and more things to do. The relief worker disappeared from the project for 5 hours without explanation. This isn't the first time she's done this either. I'm not trying to bad mouth the person but I think she probably knows she can get away with doing anything because of the boss's attitude towards her and she takes advantage of this...human nature and a' that...anyway...The folk I work for quite simply do not 'do' paid overtime so the OT counts as TOIL. This irks me big time. These folk are bastards. I really wish I had the courage to tell you who they are so you can avoid them...because of a' this I was late in meeting AM and CH. Had a wee chat wi' AM first. I'm glad I'm seeing more of him these days. We've always got on well but were maybe on different 'paths' for a while (that's not meant to be as cryptic as it might sound). I really wanted him to join 'my' band back in the day. For one reason or another it didn't happen. This has ayways been a source of huge disappointment for me. It's been great to see mair o' him lately and I hope that carries on. Aye, later on masel and CH went to see Things In Herds. I saw them a few months back with Broadcast in Glasgow. They have a lovely line in delicacy and fragility going down. Homespun introspection is very much 'my bag'. You're on a winner wi' me if you can do it well. On arrival at The Cafe Royal it appeared this was a full blown 'Fence Collective' gig. Never been to a proper bona fide Fence thing before. From what I've seen they set heavy stall on the informality of their bashes. There might or might not be a deliberate attempt to create a feeling of a gig being nowt more than pals coming together to play and meet up. Now this is all well and good but tends to be a bit more satisfying if you're part of the scene. We walked in. The place was quite busy. TIH are not well known but there is a sizeable Fence buzz going about RIGHT NOW. It became apparent that these folk in the crowd were 'in the know' and were probably personally involved with 'the collective'. I had a feeling of 50 or so heads turning round to see who'd walked in. We weren't known to these folk. They seemed to be Fence people...as in they ALL seemed like Fence people or their partners. Every bloke was of chunky build, bearded and scuffed in a cuddly way- warm jerseys and much smoking of 'rollies' . They all looked King Creosote. They were probably all his brothers. Everyone was a member of the bourgeoisie. One of the lasses was even wearing a pashmina. Another one had a Daryl Hannah in Blade Runner haircut much like the lass who's ever present at undergroundy gigs who may or may not be shagging Alex Neilson. She's got a very silly haircut who ever she is...I'm so jealous of people with hair, I really am. It was couple heavy with much canoodling and other -ings that go into the couple bathysphere. Soon I was weighed down by it. Total claustrophobia. THEIR WORLD. THEIR PALS. THEIR EXPERIENCE. We sat for a while. More bearded well upholstered blokes came in. Were they all from Anstruther? Maybe they were from there in name only just like in the response you get when you say to anyone from 'Muchty 'Oh The Proclaimers came from there didn't they?' Seemingly they preferred the big city and didn't show their fizzogs in Shand country too often. Saying you're frae Auchtermuchty rather than the capital probably has more of an appeal to the tourists and Stuart Anderson fans who would be their fanbase. More authentic in a tartan way. Saying yer frae The East Neuk is probably more rootsy and 'escape the rat race' than mentioning you come frae the big city like most of these folk undoubtedly do...could anyone who knows different let me know please? Thank you. So The Pictish Trail played first. This guy is Fence establishment. He is 'Fencier than thou'. He posts on the Fence Beef Board thing as 'Fence HQ'. He might well be their 2nd in command. The way he approached his set made it all seem even more like a big pals's club or like I'd gatecrashed a wedding reception. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and constant references were made to this fact . Is this what all Fence things are like? Mr. Trail made many smug references to 'Kenny' ie King Creosote (Mr. Fence) and pissed around like someone who had plenty of scope to do what he liked. His music is fairly standard winsome songwritery fare. He actually started well. His opener was full of longing and space and he bent his back towards the end. This was a false dawn. He started using crap effects and thought it was funny. Everyone seemed to think it was. He lost the ability to finish a song and came across like a student twat. He even mentioned 'going to Uni'. I began to picture him with fellow toffs during 'raisin Monday'. His voice got plummier and I cottoned on to where he was coming from. This tied in to the inkling re location I mentioned above. He maybe does come frae Anstruther but it's only when he's staying in his 'summer house'. His profile on the Fence site talks of how his folks stay in the States..perfect..the sound of privilege..I really needed to hear more people wi' cash and confidence singing in an 'introspective' manner. Of course the bulk of society or of gig going society or of Fence gig going society (or so it would seem) are confident comfortable virill people and they like to hear their ain speaking to them while being fed the illusion or deluding themselves they are listening to delicate, tickly, cutting edge sounds. The performers (and the audience) also know that there is mileage to be gained from the opposite sex and impressionable record buyers by coming across as introspective and sensitive. Am I saying that only poor people can be introspective? Of course not and I'm trying not to even think it but that's what my heart feels at times. It's just my need to hear something that speaks to me crying out. Usually music that piles on the internal stuff with a trowel isn't worth anything. When it comes to expressing emotions you either have it or you don't. Not many do. I wish people would stop trying so hard. I've had enough of perfect people supposedly singing their hearts oot to the acclaim of other perfect people. I have this theory that the gig going and to a lesser extent the record buying public will only except songs of seeming 'pain and longing and hurt' from attractive people...who obviously are less hurt and have less that is truly 'real' and therefore awkward and misshapen going on therein. There are some exceptions to the rule but I feel that the current trend for low-key and quiet is evidence of just another hegemony of the beautiful ones , the shaggy ones etc. There aren't that many real introverts and social misfits out there. The bona fide ones will never get heard. It's the nature of the beast. They're not meant to be heard because they are social misfits. Playing with the loner and outsider image has always reaped rewards for upstanding popular people however. They're all expressing their 'individuality' and who they are by dressing up like their pals. They are showing 'sensitivity and uniqueness'. Fucking bullshit. They are walking on a virtual catwalk wishing that all the flashbulbs of the world were taking on board their style and panache. It's fact...folk like to gloat over how unmisfit like they are...by dressing up as a cartoon misfit cf the Yummy Fur and Bricolage phenomena...shit I digress..it hadn't dawned on me how popular the Fence thing is but while King Creosote probably sells a load of records the rest of the artists seem happy to play to their pals...and that' s the way they and the pals like it. I get a sense that folk are buying into the Fence mythos and brand and are playing at the idea of a rural idyll..from their one bedroom lovenests in The Meadows. My mind got caught up on issues of these kind. A general ennui took further hold. After TPT I noticed Jimmy Yorkston coming in. I like the guy's music a great deal. My mind wandered again. He's a 30-something bloke of chunky build and is quite baldy. He seemed to be shagging a lithe lissom 18 year old student. I felt my ire rising. It just got me thinking about 'the rules of attraction'. I have to say that I tend not to see many examples of people going oot wi folk away from their ain body shape and their own 'type'. I also feel that for the most part it's total bollocks when folk say that personality 'is what matters'. Utter crap. I was oddly annoyed at seeing JY and 'berd'. Not 100% sure why. Maybe it normalised him in my eyes. I started thinking along the lines that if I was a successful recording artiste who wrote 'sensitive' material would folk suddenly find me attractive? Obviously not but I got a bit mental and a bit odd internally after seeing that. It's all down to my feelings of how few examples I'm aware of of nubiles going out with non nubiles. It don't happen, that's why. If I was even more insane then I would have asked the lass hersel, so what do you see in the portly songsmith?..and I would ask masel is there a level of portliness or of fame that excludes you from being able to 'pull'? I apologise sincerely to JY and missus if I have imposed on the sanctity of their lurve. My heid flew on to delusions of grandeur re how I've never been recognised for anything. Certainly not by a lass. Nobody's ever seen me as I am. This is maybe true but that's because I obfuscate and try not to show you who I am because I don't think the real stuff is much worth seeing...and of course I've not 'done' much either. I feel unlovable to be frank and that's not anyone else's fault. That's mine. I know the only way to get round this is to work on it in the approved and time honoured manner. I couldn't stop thinking..if only I could write folky tunes , maybe someone would see through the blubber and the lack of confidence and the other 'issues'...fuck...I have doubted my sanity of late. Just thought I would tell you that...I began to feel queasy. Little Pebble came on and my stomach churned even more. This guy had an oddly Ian Hart-esque persona... if he came from Bearsden that is...he didn't came across quite as badly as Pictish but his music was truly appalling. Some of the worst lyrics I've ever heard eg
...'I could buy a chocolate bar and that would be alright but then ma waistband would get too tight'..its a return to the days of 'I used to be so careless. I just couldn't care less' and of rhyming 'glad about' with 'sad about'. It sounded like Justin Currie doing an acoustic set. Straight ahead chunka chunka guitarring. 'Pithyness'. Attempts at 'cleverness'. This is probably the thing I hate the most in music. There's nothing wrong with being bright and writing songs accordingly but it gets a bit rich when you think you're clever and you aren't. This seems to be another Fence staple. The horrid Deaf Mutes and the execrable Down The Tiny Steps have this in spades. You can either write provoking or funny or 'clever' lyrics or you can't. I wish folk who can't would just go back to writing 'songs of joy instead of burn baby burn'. I honestly don't think this quality is as 'subjective' or as 'relative' as you think either. Quality or a quality will always shine through...in the grand scheme o' things. I do realise that in this scheme of things I'm probably more akin to Michael out of Ryan's Daughter than Michael Ignatieff. In a way I'm rather happy with that but not in every sense...The Fence club loved LP. 'A jakie' appeared at the door and started shouting at LP. I was quite pleased at this because I wanted to shout at him too. Sadly the jaked one got a bit too boisterous and was asked to pay his fiver to come in. He didn't like this and got in a bit of handbags at dawn wi' one o' the club and the King himself and wobbled off into the wild wild night shouting '£5? You're a bunch of fucking capitalist bastards'. Priceless really...TIH played at the end and turned it round. You got the feeling the Club weren't quite as keen on them as 'their ain' ie Pictish. TIH are far less linear than what I've heard of the Fence stuff. More subtle. A bit more 'indie'. Far less contrived. More honest. They turned in a lovely set. They spoke to the crowd a fair bit and were friendly but they didn't converse in in-jokes a la the Pictish one. They brought warmth and genuine inclusion into play. Pete the singer has a lovely Drakey voice. It was just right. He maybe was a priviliged student but he doesn't sound like one. They have economy and nuances and elan. They also have a cover of 'The Final Countdown' which almost defies belief. They were great. I wanted to grab the mic at the end and ask folk.."Right how many of you reside all year round in the East Neuk of Fife?" Out of that figure how many of you are involved in the Fence organisation?" I would guess that most hands would have went up on the second count. Strange..very very strange...I felt this way too...went back to the shithole...didn't feel good...I was worried..about my life...about masel...I've always been a self indulgent mofo...maybe me and Pictish would like each other after all...Fri. Fuck today has been rather shit...cheap, glib, repetitive...ha ha... That heady McLuckie combo of despair/lazyness/avoidance. Started the day off with 'an act of total folly' never mind complete madness. I couldn't face seeing the debt counsellor. I didn't want to hear how bad 'it' was. What changes I would have to make. So I cancelled. It was an early AM appt and I couldn't drag masel out of bed. This had something to do with it too. What the fuck am I doing? Of course I spent the morning avoiding the pillars of the finance on the phone and thinking how much shit I was in. Had another aimless day off. Couldn't decide what to do. It was freezing cold. Damp. Grim. Kept thinking that I couldn't face up to life anymore...glibness Timothy...maybe I could go for the Paracetamols..no, I'll go to Asda instead. Mair avoidance came into play. Late on Thur, I got an msg from an agency I'd applied to a while back. Didn't expect to hear from them again after a lengthy delay but they phoned to let me know about work they had coming up. I wanted the money but didn't want to work for it or give up my time off which I use so fruitfully so I ignored the call. My head is fucking gone at the moment. I can reflect on it all I like..and I do..but I can't get over this internal barrier of making the effort to recognise all the changes I have to make...Prior to Asda I went into the land of the Interweb for a while. Got overpowered by wicka wacka guitars from the Jamiroquai LP they played on a loop..Chloe Sevigny was in. She was wearing a big flouncy black dress. It was a thrilling sight. While I was there the inevitable Aussie in the corner piqued my interest by going on about how he had left his surfboard in Argentina. Inevitable. He was a virill stag. He did genuinely mention someone called Lucinda. I wanted to ask him how many Jacinta's he knew. Braved the outside world en route to Asda. Weather wise it was miserable even for Edinburgh- raw and damp. Ate gluttonously again today. I can feel my gut growing. No I can really. Mair procrastination and dissatisfaction ( I would love to find a day to day use for that phrase 'Catisfaction' which appeared on a Whiskas advert a while back. It has such a satisfying ring to it) but got ma act together...relatively speaking... and went oot to see 'TransAmerica' I loved it. When I saw the trailers it seemed like one o' thae 'The Marketability Of Camp presents.. Priscilla/ Muriel' crowd pleasers. It isn't. It's vaguely feel goody but not really. It has characters with grit and faults and it is funny too. Lovely stuff. I ken you're supposed to say this but her frae 'Desperate Housewives' is great. Whenever I see her I'm convinced her and the lass frae 'The Sopranos' (Edie Falco) are one and the same. Has anyone ever seen them together? In a very very odd twist it seemed A-W was there in the cinema. She has a most distinctive laugh. A group o' folk came in behind me close to the time o' the fillim starting. I'm sure she was one o' them. I didn't want to have to say 'eh..hi' so after the fillim I kept my head down and walked straight out without looking anywhere other than straight ahead. It felt like the old days, avoid thae 'adult situations' at all cost..shit. No that guid. I'm no that 'adult' either. On return to the shithole I began to feel that ...the prospect of Mackaye will get me through..Going to see The Evens on Sun and Mon. They are the latest band to feature Ian Mackaye who has been the nearest I've had to a hero. He comes up with all the incomplete male trying his best schtick that I like...acht I'm no going to tell you why I like him. Go dae yer ain research. I get self conscious talking re things I like. The thought of seeing him/them lifted me and no doubt. I needed that.
I shall try to keep this brief from here on in. In real life I feel as if I've been repeating things- situations, types of despair + unhappiness. There isn't any need to foist it all on you OVER and OVER again...or at least any more than I've done it so far. I might feel like doing so cause it would be true ( FOR FUCK'S SAKE) but I don't quite know what continuing to go over it would achieve. Headed through tae Fife today. The 0800 calls appear to continue even at the weekend. At least by going out I was getting away from the home phone ringing ALL THE TIME. The moby still took a good hit. It's ma mothers birthday the morn. Thanks to work and The Evens I can't make it through then so I ended up going during the day today. Met KB before hand. I had the usual feelings of dread prior to visiting the folks so meeting him was welcome. He was on good form. He's still living in a pliss of oddly Dickensian squalor/grandeur. He appears to have a momentum to his life that I've always admired. I stand back feeling as if I'm not invited but he seizes the day. I think I am impressed. We spoke re many things. I had a lot of TLK feelings. Today I was able to rationalise for 5 mins...maybe...I also feel listened to by KB. For all the shite I talk this is a very nice feeling. He cares. I know that. He's a true friend. I basked in that for a while..then I visited the parents. Mother had just got back from somewhere. She was flustered. She can be a total nightmare when she's on edge. She ran about referring to how she 'needed to make you some tea'. This was a veiled ticking off for arriving unnanounced at tea time. (maybe I should introduce her to TLK..see below). I gave her her pressie. She won't like it. I got her some watercolour paints. She's recently taken it up and has been doing a lot of painting but she'll think the present is overkill/ extravagance. She hates that. She is truly impossible at times. Anyone seen 'Interiors'? I think the matriarch in that fillim was based on my mother. Only the class is wrong. Chatted with the folks for a while. They were both on poor form. Dad got annoyed at mother for talking loudly to her sister on the phone. " Shut the door John. They talk a lot of fucking rubbish" Mother came through and started making remarks re me spending money to get here. Mother is obsessed with financial problems. She just nags you to death re spending if she thinks you're short..or even if she doesn't...I couldn't handle it. If only she knew re the potential bankruptcy. That doesn't bear thinking about. I said my goodbyes and left. They were pressurising me to be sensible and careful and normal. It was too much. I left. I went 'hame'. I bought chips and cheese. I was alone. I cried.
Sun- Christ I'm trying to keep it as brief as possible . Aye, the general lassitude was present today but maybe a bit less so than of late. No 0870 calls at all. This doesn't mean that they're off the case. It just means that its Sunday and the pinstripe world still sticks to the old school 'weekend off' routines. Work was rather shite to be frank, more in a testingly boring way than in any back to the grind vibe but had a good chat wi' KS who's as solid and as Fife as the Lomond Hills. Phoned mother later on. She didn't even refer to the present. She sounded strained. She had just been out wi' ma brother. She hates going out and going out of her routine. She's had mental health issues very like mine. She is an extremely anxious person. Speaking to her when she's stressed reminds me of how wearing being with me must have been at times over the years. We are too alike. This causes communication issues. I made sure the call was a brief one. Met AM prior to the gig. Had a surreal moment when I noticed the difference in air quality in a smokeless pub. It didn't feel right somehow. You could breathe. Heaven forbid. Well...The Evens were incredible. I shook Mackayes hand. Things suddenly seemed simpler. Walked home in the rain and felt pretty good for the first time in some time. Even forgot about the freak outs I'd had re seeing masel in a mirror in the venue and how fat I looked in the big shirt I had on. Forgot about most things aside from the vaguest whiff o' a sense o' possibility...jesus...maybe someone's hijacked this blog..
So on on on to Monday. It's been an odd day so far. Saw a fair bit of TLK at work. Relations seemed uneasy. Christ, maybe it's me but the more I look for it the more I see how in charge of things she really is. Maybe she doesn't know she's doing it but she takes control of everything- her feelings, the plans of action as far as work goes, the whole shebang. Her attitude towards me has definately changed since we had 'words'. She has tightened her grip of the way things are between us. She has identified that I might cause her 'hassle' or be emotionally difficult for her so she has cut off ANY semblance of personal stuff between us. She has done it without saying anything directly which is obviously the most hurtful way to do it.I NEED PEOPLE TO BE HONEST WITH ME. I put the feelers out a bit today. Every comment I made about ma ain/non work stuff was met with a steely phoned in response. The fact she remains OUTWARDLY friendly just fucked with my head. She continues to talk like we did before to a point particularly when others are there but she only tells you what she wants you to know. I look for it but there is a subtext to most things she says..wee messages re what she really wants to say cloaked in pleasantries. Warnings almost. Keep away. I know she's doing it. I am mental but I know she's doing it. Oddly in the middle of all this she announced that she 'hadn't had any 'action' in some time'. It was kinda in the context of a clients 'genito-urinary health' but still seemed an odd thing to come out with. All day intimate/ personal/ friend-like comments kept coming from her. I would pick up on this and mention something personal. She would reply to this with total detachment and move the subject back to work. She's always done this to a certain extent, she clearly does have control issues, but today it was full on. I mentioned a few times how I was giving up drink. I got the far away response. I think she thought I was saying this for her benefit and trying to make a point re how I wasn't thinking about 'us' and our friendship. Another colleague brought up 'drinking' later. I mentioned again that I had given up. There was an audible sigh from TLK. She did it again the next time I mentioned something personal. I asked if she was ok. She said 'what?' I said 'you sighed' She said 'I didn't realise I did it'. I don't ken whether she works out how she's going to behave wi' folk in advance but it seems like she might. She identifies potential problems and eliminates them not by talking to the person and letting them know but by appearing outwardly friendly and then closing the door after they are drawn in. Because of my messed up feelings about her, I can't handle this right now. Stumbled out o' work. Head was totally elsewhere. Made it through to Glasgow. Saw The Evens again. They genuinely made my life better for an hour. They play music and put on shows like they should be done- all-embracing, an experience, almost a celebration.. of 'punk', of an idea of what 'the underground' is about. I got a wee bit annoyed at a young buck wi' Busted hair and a lumpy bloke in a MADBALL tee standing near by but then remembered the spirit of the gig and things got better. Clearer. They are people. At times I don't feel part of the human race but I am and there are times when I like this fact, when I like people. I think The Evens helped me to understand and appreciate that, even if just for a short time. Lately, ever since I defaulted on a coupla things and the 0800 calls started I've been in a netherworld of avoidance. When I go out and do something I'm ok but as soon as that's out the way I'm fucked and I think of debt mostly. This ain't good (ha). I do feel invaded and as if 'there's a war on' and I'm living in crisis mode..maybe I am...I need to cast this off...ha fucking ha...Finally on to today. Had a heavy one in the morning. More scary post came through the door. In theory I left this behind and went to scatter DT's ashes. More like I carried it with me all day. We found the location D had wanted and TLK, another colleague, masel and his best pal scatted the ashes into the river. It was genuinely moving. I cried again. TLK was professional and reserved. Once again it annoyed me how in control she was. I felt as if I'd had enough o' work and of the situ I'm in. TLK did an oddly nice thing then. Before heading back tae the city the 3 o' them had a fag. TLK saw I was doon and offered me one. I think it was genuine. If it was I was kinda touched, I think. Backhanded maybe but still touching. It seemed crazy to be carrying on as normal after DT had been literally thrown away but dutifully I went back tae work and got on wi' Tuesday. Back in the office affairs carried on as yesterday but somehow a bit worse. She did it all day...friendly/ steely, friendly/ steely..all the time. Depite all this I still wanted to be with her or maybe I just wanted some company from anyone, the debt thing was taking over and I had an image of DT telling me about Wilfred Pickles back in my cranium. I was teary and bereft. Before I left TLK took some of the ashes that were left in the bottom of the urn and said she would put them in a locket she had. Some ashes were left on the desk. I said "don't tidy them up. It'll be nice to have him here. Part of the furniture" Part cliche'. Part sadness. I started greeting again. I'm greeting now when I'm writing this. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to know 100% where I stood with her too. To test the waters I left work at the same time as her. In the past this always signified going to the pub. Today she took charge. She kept chatting faux warmly and steered us across the road past both the pubs we tended to go to. She also made an early detour away from the direction I would go in to get hame. This is as clear as she will ever make it. Part of her bars the other part from telling me to fuck off or go away. So she does it by implication. This might change if, for some reason, she ever wants to see me again. I felt pleased in a way to have it spelt out but I also realised that this was TLK I was talking about. I sank down. I walked up the road. I went past the place where I stormed out of on the day DT died. I went past places I've gotten very drunk with her. The 0800's rang again. I drifted into feelings of ending it. These got worse. I would literally go to the bridge. I would jump off. I would leave a letter for KB. I don't want any religion at the service. I want to be burned. No shirts and ties are allowed. The family wouldn't understand. I'll send a valediction to TLK. I'll tell her everything. I'll write the letters and I'll do it tonight. I believe that I was in utter despair at that moment. What is there in my life? I'm unfanciable. I'm not a good pal. I've done a catalogue of stupid things. I'm £50,000 in debt and and and...I hope I've come round a bit now. Back to reality or sanity. I know these moments will come again. They won't get any easier to face. I suppose I'll have to face them. There isn't any other option...

Sing The Troubled Beast

2006-03-19T03:24:00.000-08:00

Been thinking over 'plans' (ha) for the blog. Been weighing up what I get from doing it and reckon I might carry on for a while. I contrive to keep contrivance at bay as much as possible so therefore I shall endeavour not to think about things and to just write what comes naturally so if one day you come in and there is a list of 'My 100 favourite cricketing nobodies' or 'Why I hate the England Cricket Team' then I apolgise in advance but hell...so therefore for now at least it seems the diary entry type stuff will probably continue. Particularly at the moment I think I need to keep writing about events in the hope that it will garner me some therapeutic qualities along the way. Ower the last few days I've felt the debt thing take grip. I can't stop thinking about it. It won't just be the 'dearth o' £' vibes. It'll be the general scrutiny o' my finances and by extension my personal habits that being so in hock necessitates that'll sting the most. As 'appealing' as bankruptcy might sound (FUCKING HELL) in terms o' wiping off certain problems of course it doesn't really do that at all and it certainly doesn't do it without other pressures coming to bear in lieu of the originals. I feel as if I want to avoid going down the bankruptcy route if at all possible. Shit man it seems as if I'm claiming that 'pride' is a consideration for me...fuck me...anyone who knows certain aspects of my character and general 'ways' would have to debate that, I would suggest. Christ, I'm gabbling already. I must also apologise if my last post seemed a tad melodramatic. I'd just struggled for some time to write the previous one and was a little cheesed off at the lack of flow and of any sense of variety in amongst a' the 'really's' and the 'kinda's. These words are this weeks exclamation marks..not that I'll be easing up on them totally tho', as I'm lazy but mostly because they're harder to police. I would request therefore that you allow me a few of those words on account of my scribbles being in a 'transitional phase'. For fuck's sake...btw I meant what I said re loving your comments. I hope that it didn't seem as if I had my rod out...as it were...sorry KB...shit the in jokes have started already. I'll try to escape on the grounds that I am from a class who do not 'do' in-jokes...

Where did I leave you?...oh aye...Friday aft and the stretches of aimless drifting that days off tend to invite. Felt mired in all of this ie the feeling of having 'free time' on my hands and the recent problems, some nascent, some all too mature. Started to think about wandering off on the bizarre search for this book which my father's been after for years...why is it bizarre?...well, it's a wee miniature touristy book o' Burns poems...probably run off by any ye old crappy gift shoppe inc in the darkest part of the 70's and then forgotten about...he got it in Ayr in 1980 on the only family holiday we ever had- a week 'by the seaside' in someone's static caravan. I did have a good time that week tho'- went to see Giant Haystacks in action, an experience which has never left me and also spent most of the time wearing a blue and orange velour leisure top thing. 9 ah wuz. But father sees this book as the holy grail and will not accept anything similar..it has to be 'the same book'...size, content...I feel proper embarassed looking in proper bookshops as quite frankly it's a piece of tartanry crap bought frae Burns Cottage for 10 p or whatever it was. My auntie (the clever one of the family..the only one who's ever had a bourgeois job...primary school teacher/ headmistress) has furnished me with a list of 2nd hand book stores in the capitol and mother and father have requested I go on a hunt- it'll gie ye something tae dae son etc etc. As far as mythical quests go it's not exactly Heart Of Darkness but it'll have it's metaphysical and emotional moments along the way he says a' la an even more vacuous Student Grant in that I will wonder why 'a piece of crap' means so much to him and why 'they' think they need to provide a diversion to their laddie and I will ruminate long on the oft and overly mentioned 'lack of connection' and 'lack of meaning tae my life' and so forth...on reading this bit back I feel that an urgent reassessment/quick inspection o' ma life is required for the sake of my own foolish pride...please imagine an EM at this point...Anyway couldn't summon up the stamina to tie masel doon to starting out on this quest and internally pontificated in a wan manner for the rest of the afternoon. 'Left to my own devices I probably'... won't...and I didn't. Wandered back tae the shithole through the now seemingly ever present biting wind. Felt heavily discombobulated/ displaced. The shithole is not 'a home'. It has none of the associated comforting factors therein. It is a dirty, pokey dive where I don't answer the door, I don't invite anyone in and ultimately where I hide frae folk who are after money frae me. This seems to have become a cave where I wait for the next crisis to happen- fuck, I'm getting glib but for a fair part of the time this seems like an accurate thing to say. On occasion the lazy squalor in here has to be seen to be believed. I can just imagine the workout that the landlord's digital camera will get when it comes to 'assessing' whether I get ma deposit or no. Maybe I could take a pic o' the devastation and save them a' the tru-bell. Fucked soapdish in pic 37, collapsed curtain rail at 12 o' clock and the inevitable spooged carpet in the 'living area'. I feel so edgy when I'm 'at home'. I just associate everything about here as being 'wrong' and 'undesirable'. When I leave this pliss, I'll think only of debt, of stumbling hame alone on many nights wi' a heid full o' grog and TLK and a wee carrier bag of chips and cheese, of carrying on the status quo of bad habits and isolation and all the shite that goes with that. I'll think of all the things I should have been doing, of where my life could have went if I'd been geered or if I had or hadn't done X or Y. Note to self...this kinda shit (ie navel gazing and thinking of 'what might have been') is my personal ROAD TO RUIN...the other side of this 'exile' means that seemingly 24/7 of late I've needed to be wi' folk. I need to be somewhere other than here. Here is where I'm on my own. That's a fact set in stone now and I don't want to face it so I have to get out and see people which is healthy but me being me there aren't that many folk I can be with or who, because of various moments/ acts of madness I want to spend time with.Was very happy to see CH later tho'. Met him for scran. The scran was pleasant-seductively stodgy. The chat was extremely necessary. Of late I've had times where I feel as if I just can't be on my own. I've always had moments where I've felt very 'lonely' but NEVER quite to this scale. It's a total no-brainer to say that loneliness is 'the worst', he says in a dumb ass way...shit...because quite simply it is..there isn't anything worse...so there...anyway, after scran and a comedy phone msg from my dad where he introduced himself as 'the prime minister' much to my amusement (maybe you had to be there or know my faither?) met up wi' Idles (It doesn't seem right to abbreviate this person's ID...questions in writing please...), a good pal o' CH's and a person I admire a great deal...see link to her blog therein for the evidence o' her writerly qualities. Mair guid chat. Spoke wi' Idles re respective litererary endeavours. I enjoy projecting that I have abilities in this area. It makes me feel as if I'm making a proper stab at being part of the human race, as if I'm attempting yon 'self expression' that you read about. Of course it's all for show...ha ha...It seems I am desperate to embarrass masel- by attempting to overstretch my abilities in the area o' disquisition. Anyway...Went to see 'Tsotsi' later on. I just didnae like it, he says in the Fife stylee. Way too simple, full of oddly MTV-esque visuals and another fillim reliant on punchy 'violence' for it's effect and 'power'. Again yer Bradshaws will filter it through aw manner o' context and history and I'm sure it's very very valuable from that pov but is it a great or even an outstandingly good piece of film? I really don't think it is. The characterisation and flashbacky bits have something of the Children's Film Foundation about them. I expected Cheggers to come running into the township in his Robin Hood costume and move the storyline further into an area where pesky criminals get foiled by Julians and Dicks on a barge in Norfolk. It was that good. Acht a' the white middle class students there in big scarves seemed to like it..and of course that's all that matters. From what I recall I plodded hame on Friday somewhat disillusioned with 'life', getting even further into deep contemplation of my 'lot'. It had also dawned on me that I had just arranged to meet my dad tomorrow...
So... Saturday. Another odd wandery listless sort o' day. Fucking feezing. Up early and was quickly into the mode re-introduced over the last couple of days. Despite individual moments seeming long and dull the morning just vanished, again taken up by me pissing about wondering what I should do and naturally doing absolutely nothing. At dinner time, I got an MSN message frae A-W. Was chuffed to hear from her but...she cancelled tomorrow. I was crushed, I have to say. The thought of Sunday had been self- justification for ambling through my other days off- I would have something to redeem it all on the Sunday. I started getting the paranoid stuff coming back all over again just after I had maybe started to feel a tiny tiny semblance o' presumptuous attractiveness creep in. I think I had 'unwisely' started to slip into a mode where I thought 'well, maybe she does like me?' That's the truth...another note to self...never never never get ahead o' yersel...never...I quickly suggested we meet up instead during the week. She agreed to this but said she 'didn't have my diary with me and I'm useless without it'. On reflection this sounds bad re the chances of seeing her again. Hopefully it isn't as bad as it sounds. The way she worded stuff tends to tie in with how she's always worded stuff and I didn't get any bona fide bad vibes in fact. She's not one for long MSN chats and she IS a busy person and she also seems a damn good sort who probably would be straight forward with me if she didn't want to see me again. Shit man I so want to see her again, I really do...anyway...fingers and awthing else crossed and a' that...Tried not to be but was somewhat stunned by a' this and felt even more deflated...felt the flood gate come up and the debt sludge pour through...destitution or even worse 'having to go back to Fife'...nae money for the pictures or for bands...NAE MONEY...this shit was battering around all afternoon. In the middle of it all the latest chapter of ma ain personal voyage roond ma faither began. Father can be a restless soul if you stray too far out his own territory. He doesn't like things like eating out or 'cultural' activities. He does like mammoth rants on the topic of pub closing times, he likes visiting pubs (the rougher the better. It was unbelievable to observe how more relaxed he got once we were in an authentic Leith Walk old man's pub. He felt so at home amongst the basics), he likes bookies (we spent a wee while in a bookies on Leith Walk. This was a gen up abandon all hope ye who enter here place. It wasn't just folks dreams that appeared to have been broken. The whole place was dying, wreathed in nicotine and harsh strip light. It was a brutal place- hardcore gamblers, dodgy characters, skaggers, jakies, the entire gamut- suffice to say father was once again in his element), he likes freemasonry (he apparently is some semi bigwig at the grand lodge. He's obsessed with Lord Fauntleroy or who ever it is that runs the show. For THE most working class man on the planet he has an oddly knee crooking attitude to queen and country and authority. He seems to get quite excited by meeting 'important' people. This is one of the many things we disagree on) and golf (this ties in with freemasonry in that it is a very manly pursuit at least it is in the circles he plays it in. It's all gags re 'the 19th hole' and concerns re 'the etiquette of the game' and the fear that 'the ladies section' might take up the course on a Saturday morning. He may be many things but one thing he can be defined as is A MAN'S MAN.). It was inevitable that we should end up in a series of pubs. I'd been thinking about it for a while but I realised on Sat that I want to give up drinking completely. It just ain't worth it. I've been overdoing it and I risk becoming a real maudlin cliche'..the unhappy man drinks to forget...fuck that shit...however, this meant that I was following faither around stone cold sober while he downed many Vodka and Diet Cokes. When he gets in full flow he becomes monologuey and moves from humourous and offbeat to relentless pounding on the same subject without taking a breath and without inviting any input from you. His subjects won't cover a broad spectrum- the aforementioned closing times of pubs, Scottish football, the old ways, 'thae old films' (he's always used that phrase to describe ANY film which gets shown on a midweek afternoon on Channel 4) etc. He becomes damn hard work and Sat was no exception. I just switched off for the most part, coming to life when he came oot wi' a coupla classics. He has, shall we say, his own way of pronouncing certain things. My personal faves are 'speeshiss' for species, 'serious' for series, 'waver' for wafer and 'fan-a-tic' for fanatic (The first 2 syllables sound like the 'manna' in Mannatee if that makes any sense?) These and other examples came think and fast. He also has a made up word which he uses EXCLUSIVELY to describe Rangers' style of play. I think he's trying to conjure something between 'pedestrian' and 'pedantic'(?) but it comes out as 'fucking Rangers..their style o' play's so petantic'. So next time you see Wunder Eck just imagine him saying 'aye I told the boys..go out and be as petantic as you can'..now that's advice for you. I ayways get down when he goes all one sided on you and you can't talk to him. He has a soft side which only comes out in these funny wee messages on yer birthday cards. They usually make me cry as they tend to say what he thinks of me in very glowing terms. The fact that they come from a guy who will not outwardly tell you how he feels is hellishly moving...so he headed back to Fife after a fair while. It felt like a long night as the conversation had been so one sided. I wiz exhausted by it. Before I leave faither I'll tell you aboot a bizarre wee exchange we had at the train station. I sat with him while he waited for the train. He was in the midst of a full on ramble re 'the way things used to be' and he became irate when he saw a lasses jeans being worn in an extremely low fashion. This obviously isn't the done thing in Fife. 'Fuckin' hell, that's that bairns knickers'. 'Thae troosers are fawin' off her 'erse', which of course was fact. Further absurdity came when I realised I was talking to my dad re the underwear of teenage girls- I said 'well I've seen worse' and started to point out that 'at least she's wearing big pants and not thae G-string things'. I meant well...but this line of chat seemed...wrong...off he went to the train...I went back to the shithole not thinking of ladies pants but thinking instead of the fact I wasn't 'going out' (the fatal phrase) wi' A-W tomorrow...shit...Once you've had a glimpse of a feeling that you might be joining the human race and then it doesn't happen, now that's when yer fucked...Sunday...hovered for a far shorter period than I had over the last coupla days and decided in lieu of 'real' human contact I would go to the pictures and observe simulated human interplay from an easy chair. I identified 2 fillims and intended to catch them both. Was up pretty early tho and decided (yes I managed to stick to something)...to wander down to Newhaven, hoping for some windswept vibes and some possibilities for contemplation in the sea air. Newhaven is a peculiar place. It's like Anstruther or Crail but right in the middle (kinda) o' the big city. It has a lovely harbour and particularly when I stayed in Leith, I used to walk down there a lot. It was nice on Sun but was too calm and mild to feel like the real deal. I wanted to be blown away by big acts of gustyness. It wasn't fair. Started to feel way low while there...debt of course but mostly TLK and the thought of seeing her again tomorrow...would she speak to me? Would she be 'ok'? Will I still fancy her like mad? (you notice that I try not to use the 'l' word with regard to her any more?...I'm trying to start wi' a wee gesture and move on frae there). These thoughts drove me mad. It seems crappy to throw this in but I stood for a long time and looked at the water. It would be easy to jump over there. That would be it. I can't swim. I'm going to do it. Of course I didn't. Been thinking along these lines 'a lot'. I have moments when everything does feel totally hopeless. My mind's been running away from me too and I've been coming up with all manner of crazy trains of thought and senses of conviction that the worst will happen. Not good. I don't want to die, I think I know that but there are times when I start to believe that I'm doubting that. Not sure either why I should tell you this...answers on a post card please...dear Fat Bastard, we've found you out etc etc..maybe I'm trying to get as honest as I can?...the answer to this is probably 'yes and no'. I'm still selective to a certain extent. I really am trying to work on that tho'...en route back frae the seaside, I got a call frae KB. Was happy that he was in Edin wi the KB family so we met up for a while. I needed this. Relaxed chat, genuine friendliness, empathy, 'connection'. The feeling was quite something. To carry on frae this I saw CH later and we went to see 'Capote' . Came out thinking that I wasn't sure what I made of it. PSH was great as I knew he would be. It's an odd film in that it very much presents the main character in an unflattering light, something you won't normally see from a conventional biopic. Mostly because of this you learn a hell of a lot more about TC than you would through a standard format. This is well done but somehow jars and feels alienating. This might be the intention- one of the themes is about how he was very much an outsider. A lot of the gripes for me came wi' the speed with which they fired through the events. It is a surprisingly quick paced film and it don't work imo. Supporting characters drift in and out. You don't care about them cause you don't get to know about them- Chris Cooper's character is a total nothing. Maybe a lot of his stuff went on the cutting room flair, maybe ditto Catherine Keener. This is another thing which makes it a difficult film to enjoy- good actors are given very little screen time. This is always a niggle. As good as PSH is and he does manage to show different sides to TC he's fighting a battle against a script which doesn't show enough of the engaging side o' his character. The running time is short. Maybethere was a reason for this but the fillim ends up feeling skeltal somehow. I think my mood was affected by the wave of bourgeoisie who piled into the cinema after the fillim had started. We had to stand up and let them in. Where had they been? The Cameo has a sign out front that says 'No Late Entry'. This is clearly a lie. It should say 'No Late Entry' if yer frae the wrong side o' the tracks. Acht I like The Cameo. I think haein yer viewing disturbed by the Ents Soc night oot is a bit keech. I really like the friendly lass who sits on the front desk and does her knitting..but that's another story...so I left there. Heid buzzing with many things...none of them that crash hot...mostly TLK with a bit o' debt garnish on top...lovely...
...So I made it intae work. Couldn't think of anything other than seeing 'her'. She phoned early in the day. I anticipated a bit o' 'tude. She was very nice tho', quite friendly in fact. It appeared that we were talking to each other after all. She came in. She looked amazing. Can't think of another way to describe it. I'd almost forgotten how attracted to her I am. She'd lost a bit of weight. Her hair looked shaggy and long and a bit wild. This is always the way I've liked her hair, he says completely unnecessarily. She looked tired and flushed and bleary eyed. I couldn't keep from looking in her direction. Shit man, I didn't expect this. She seemed hungover and had had another bash on the heid to add to last week's black eye... fuckin' hell....Christ, I struggled today...all the old feelings..I just wanted to be with her all the time. I couldn't get her out of my head. I can see her faults a mile high but it don't make any difference. We chatted well ABOUT WORK STUFF but didn't go on to personal areas as we would have done before. Her eyes narrowed when I had to mention anything related to the day DT died. An example of classic TLK reserve came when I told her I was leaving the work ASAP. I told her it was down to 'personal and professional' reasons. She looked at me intently. I could feel the old TLK mechanism coming into place. She answered in an offhand, practical fashion. She always does that. She thinks about the emotional response and then breaks down the resolve to provide a sober detached reply. I'm sure that's what she does. I think I know her well enough now. She probably knows the score too re the real reason why I'm leaving, in fact I'm sure she does. Knowing her she will NEVER comment on this. It'll be a real 'out of character' moment if she does. The head became cluttered again. She appeared to make it clear without referring to it that we would only talk re work things. There was never any suggestion of closeness or of being pals. She's always been a great compartmentalizer and she hasn't lost this nack. She can set her own boundaries and never cross them. She did it big style today. It was a quiet day at work. I got knackered, totally bored and all the negatives crept in. I need to get out of this place. I thought again re writing my notice. I need to leave. The day to day strife wi' the management is crap, the wages are worse and seeing TLK regularly is driving me insane. I am a stuck man. Headed to the land o' the Interweb after work. Couldn't get my act together to post anything. Struggled for some time to put owt into any half decent written form. Gave up and headed back tae the Cameo to see 'The Proposition'. Felt 'directionless so plain to see' sitting there in the dark wi' the big scarved ones flitting back and forth. There appears to be a culture in the world of 'arthouse' ie bourgeois cinema going that you are almost duty bound to get up for a piss in the middle of the fillim. You so very rarely see this at Multiplexes- it's true godamnit. Last night I was incensed by the very presence of these 2 'Sonny's Burning' anachronisms wi' spiky hair and Blixa Bargeld complexions. I bet they were wearing pointy boots too. What a fucking cliche'..sorry..it would be the cinematic equivalent of me going to see any Ian Mackaye band while wearing a black beanie...oops...anyway, these 2 'gluey ones' quite simply had to get up to go to the toilet in shifts during the fillim. Their spiky hairdos were huge. They literally covered the screen from where I was sitting when they stood up. I found their collective presence deflating. As if ma ain wasn't hard enough for me?...anyway...the fillim itsel...it had a load o' similarities wi' 'ghosts of the civil dead' (the other Cave/Hillcoat movie) in that it was magnificent at conjuring a certain atmosphere ( the copyrighted Cave atmos- hammilly semi-gloomilly showilly melodramatic. The same vibe that runs through all his music (well the vocal performances at least) and most of his writing). The weirdly existential character bits were genius. Sadly the fillim couldnae make up it's mind what it was. It seemed that everytime it got too quiet the tempo would be lifted by an outbreak of 'violence'. That's a standard movie device and it didn't tally with some of thae great scenes of characters losing their minds in the midst o' a' this madness and wide open space. The ending is poor, Guy Pearce's character makes no sense whatsoever and some of the acting is variable. It has a fair bit o' power. The shots o' the outback draw you in but arnae supported by being the backdrop to (or by being another character in) a bog standard actioner. It is worth seeing for the weird bits. Definately a fillim I would make ma ain director's cut of if I was someone else...anyway...you don't want to hear of the fact I crept back tae the shithole wi' a weight bearing doon on me but I did...so there...on tae Tuesday...did a fair bit o' writing on this post this mornin but then lost it all when the shithole had a power cut. Maybe it'll have burned down by the time I get back. That's the only fate it deserves. Work was crappy again. Strife, stress and the prospect o' being on ma ain for most of the week stretching in front of me. TLK looked even more beautiful (ma ain interpretation thereof) today. In an out of character moment she seemed to be wearing eyeliner. The effect drove me even further into some kind o' blue funk. I was on the late shift. She finished at 4 or thereabouts. The sight of her walking out the door nearly cut me in half. The new emotional regime isn't working. She once again kept on the 'we are colleagues' tip of yesterday. One minor mention of 'the outside world' but that was it. I lost it later and got negative and fatalistic wi' her about my feelings re my future in the job and this kind o' work. As she normally does she sidestepped skillfully and did not enter into any hint of a conversation relating to this. Probably rightly so of course. After she left I didn't know what to do. Had a period of about 10 mins where all I wanted to do was jump out the window. This passed and I went up the road, feeling as if I never wanted to come back to work again. Got here tae the land o' the interweb and promptly found an email from A-W. She doesn't want to see me again. We could only ever be pals. Not ideal timing but I don't feel overly bothered at the moment (Most of my head is saying well she's not TLK and she never could be. This is pure and utter insanity setting in) It is just grist to the mill. It's kinda funny that another layer has been added to build things up to a silly silly amount of 'problems'. I don't need to spell them out. You don't have enough time anyway. The phone has been going all day today and for the last fortnight to- 0870 and 0800 numbers. The financial institutions are on the war path. They want paid. While this has been going on I've been feeling desperate for a txt or a call frae anyone who knows me or who I want to hear from ie not a financial institution. Shit I'm a 'needy' person. I bother people. I'll be talking to you on the bus next. I'll be collecting glass juice bottles or shouting 'they're all fucking Yankees' at you. I truly feel the most alone I've ever felt. Not even started to analyse the A-W situ yet. No point in that. I'll leave you wi' one positive. Before the fog came back in (I picture it as the dry ice that fills up that graveyard in the 'No Quarter' sequence in 'The Song Remains The Same') a wee something flashed across ma yaks...namely...well if yer going to 'pull berds' you'll have to join Weight watchers. I truly am a working class Fifer after all. I think in soundbites and Daily Record speak. Next I'll be hounding Wee Burnie to the grave and lionising that wee shite Jinky. All together now...'This Is A Low..'...I've ayways loved that song...

Blotter

2006-03-17T06:33:00.000-08:00

Just a wee housekeeping message. As you maybe noticed I'm getting disillusioned again re the monotony of the posts. I'm starting to think I might call it a day. Quite frankly I'm not a good enough writer to change my style to any significant degree. The repetition of certain themes/ words/situs is almost constant and it's vexing me a little bent. I think at the moment I'll either give up or change things completely. Not really sure. If this is the last post then I'll say thanks loads to everyone who's read this and especially to folk who have posted comments. Fucking hell man. They really did mean a hell of a lot. I'm going to have a think about things and work out what I want to do. Maybe I'll keep posting in the old style. Really not sure. Thanks for reading this. It's all good... John.

I'm working but I'm not working for you

2006-03-16T07:04:00.000-08:00

So here I am. Thursday-day off. Dare say I should be taking care of 'business' but of course I'm not. I'm doing my own brand of idling in the land of the Interweb. Being a 'typical man' I'm naturally quick to point out that this pliss doesn't have quite the same allure when Chloe Sevigny isn't on shift here. This has been given additional emphasis by the fact that a genuinely smelly crusty is sitting next to me. I'm thinking o' a story I can recall of a crusty who hadn't removed his boots in a number of years. He had literally grown into them. There is a horrid fousty pong goin about. I'm also now thinking of a story I once heard re a similarly crusty lass washing her nether regions in a drinking fountain in full view of a queue of thirsty festival goers who all quickly went on to lose their thirst. Now a Bernard Cribbins lookalike has sat down at the other side and started singing along to Hall & Oates. This truly is life's rich pageant dear readers. Had the 'day off feeling' back today. Spent most of the latter part of last night and all of this morning thinking that I should be doing SOMETHING, that I should be utilising my time off. Got bewildered and confused by this and sat around unmistakeably wasting time- displeasing onanism, dwelling for hours on how cold this fucking place is and how little I can do about it, the all-pervasive loneliness, somewhat restless watching of cricket, wondering whether to have a shower or not- I wasn't sure on a/c of how freezing cold it is in here vis a vis the prospect of disrobing, as if the thought of catching sight of my enormous bulk on a reflective surface wasn't bad enough - and ultimately I spent a fair amount of time ruminating on how self loathing appears to be quite addictive. Had a few options. Planned to phone the debt counsellor. Put it off again. I regretted it later...Had a chat wi' KB in the middle o' this latest collection o' Mcluckie's own defiantly non- funky brand of despair. Think he wanted to see how the 'date' had gone the other night. I told him that it had went well and I think it had. I like A-W. A lot. We get on. We had a nice time. I'm seeing her again etc. The most significant part of the conversation was what wasn't said. I didn't realise until I'd hung up but in all honesty I think this was the first chat I've had with KB in about a year where we didn't talk about TLK and my 'issues' therein. This has to be a noteworthy event. She has dominated my thoughts since I first met her. Particularly recently, this just hasn't been a healthy thing. Even before DT's death and all that happened on that day, negatives (both inside my head and relating to 'actual events') went down which affected me badly. I know that now. It's dawned on me over the last week or so that I pretty much deluded masel over how 'friendly' we were. I wanted to be pals with her just because I knew we would never be anything other than that. I feel at the moment as if I've been fucking daft and not just on a small scale of daftness either...indeed it's been a shamozzle...and no ordinary shamozzle. I know I mentioned last night that I felt I might soon 'fall in love' with A-W. I used that phrase ad nauseam while outlining my feelings re TLK. I might be prone to amend it now to a massive infatuation. I still know that the feelings I have/had (not quite sure where the status is currently. It changes day to day) were unlike anything I've ever had for anyone else. Maybe I was totally bowled over by the fact another human being could invoke feelings of that kind in me. It had never happened to anywhere near that extent in 34 years. I think most of it was probably sheer physical attraction. We never had any sort of connection between us...nothing that was mutual. We could talk at length with each other of course but if I think now there wasn't any real magic to be had for me in spending time with her and I know there wasn't for her in being with me. I'm starting to feel that I'm maybe 'coming round' now. She was fun. She could be oddly exciting to be around. She was nice for most of the time. Distant for the rest. She has a massive level of complexity going on. I got the brunt of some of this on a good few occasions. She probably didn't realise she hurt me. Maybe she did. Maybe I shouldn't have been hurt. Christ man, I still 'fancy' her. I don't think I'll stop doing that in a hurry but maybe something in my head has realigned. I've been able to see more clearly that the type of person she is isn't the type of person who is good for me or, at times, isn't the type of person who I particularly like. I'm not her type either as a pal or anything else. This all sounds ridiculously harsh but it's not too far from the truth. I've really lost myself in being unable to deal with my feelings for her. I've wasted so much time therein. There's a lot I've not told you about her. Maybe if I told you it would make me seem less 'she done me wrong' (she hasn't. It's me that's done that) or maybe more so. There's no point in telling you all of it. I'll continue to think about her a lot I'm sure. I still worry about her too. This is probably nothing more than another reason for her to dislike me. Like me, she needs to change some things. I would have to say that I'm probably closer to doing that than she is. I hope she's able to recognise a few things and fix them. There's a damn good person in there, I know that because I've seen some lovely glimpses of it, just not enough..imo. Christ, I've come across as pompous there. There are bits related to TLK that I don't want to divulge.That might make the last bit more understandable or even meaningful. I've made myself sound like Jesus there. Shit man, of course I need to get my shit together too big time...I am the boomy sole judge of character in the universe etc etc. I think I know what I was trying to get at but I lost it somewhere along the line. It's a bit rich of me to state that other folk need to change but I will stick by what I said because I think she does to some degree..so do I. Going back to A-W I can safely say that my feelings for her are far more natural (ambiguous phrase that and another type o' thing which makes me sound like a nutter..hope you know what I mean..I can clarify on request...) and relaxed. Not sure whether she feels the same way or not but however she feels, our friendship or whatever will be a mutual one and that's maybe the main difference. I can't see it causing me distress or pain and that's one of the factors to green light things imo...good old A-W. As an addenda to the above I spoke again wi' KB later. One of the first things he talked about was that it had just dawned on him we hadn't mentioned TLK once during our conversation. I had just written the first part of this an hour or so before. Good lord. Like minds and all that..Whenever we've seen each other in the last year TLK has been the main talking point on almost every occasion. This hasn't been fair on KB and I'm not proud of it but it shows how....eh..messed up I've been..anyway...enough of this...

Got a call from CH later in the afternoon. We met up for chat and sumptious hot chocolates at The Filmhoose..shit, at times I make all this sound like 'Sex And The City' don't I?..couldn't decide what shoes to wear, but somehow made it to Spago's (or wherever..that's an American Psycho/ New York pliss isn't it?) , fucked Mr. Big but got interrupted in a comedy manner yada yada yada for years and years and years...anyway...aye 'one' does feel as if I give you the same old bollocks over and over again. Maybe this is the 'Twelve Gold Bars' of unread blogs? Got fed up, wanted to kill masel, didnae, got excited ower TLK, fell oot wi' her, fell in wi' her..and on and on and on... I shall endeavour to avoid contrivance but I feel I have to work on some 'formatting' issues...maybe I can turn this into a blog on big hair and the relative potential for a lumber therein...wait a minute, I think it's about that already...right I'll allow myself one...!....eek...moving on...the reformatting appears to have been postponed for now...After a good natter wi' CH, wandered about a bit and decided to go and see a fillim. Needed to stay out of the shithole for as long as possible. In the coming months I may have no cash at all. At least at the moment I have the credit card companies and the banks money which I should be paying to them. I feel I need to make the most of this for now. So that was the gist of my excuse to masel for spending more money...feeble...went back to the Filmhoose and saw 'L'Enfant'. Not sure what I made of it. IMO the acting was variable and it wasn't that believable...not a goood start... despite the attempt to give it an uber realistic look. The locations were perfect but that was really the only thing which couldn't be improved. The characters experienced a fair bit of misery but...to be honest...it all seemed to be resolved pretty nicely...the characters weren't particularly real people. The bairn's mother's part was underwrittten and while I know that 'conventional characterisation' etc wasn't really on display here, I ended up feeling as if I was looking at cardboard cutouts. Some moments were oddly gripping like watching a cheapo thriller or perhaps more like infamous Cannon and Ball vehicle 'The Boys In Blue'. As watchable as this might have been I'm not sure it was that welcome and I felt I was dipping into a grab bag o' cinema conventions and watching a wee bit of an am dram re-enactment o' each o' the standard reels. I remember seeing 'Rosetta' a few years back. That was great. This wasn't. Or maybe it's just me. I'm sure yer Peter Bradshaw's of the world would subject it tae different criteria..under that type o' scrutiny it may well be the best ever. I'm very working class (fucking hell) and very cynical so I tend to feel that any fillim about 'the underclass' and their struggles will always appeal to 'right thinking' middle class intellectuals who will go on to praise their authenticity and so forth..as if they would recognise it when they saw it...or is that just me being a cunt again?...aye it maybe is...btw just read P. Bradshaw's review...I agree with some of what he said, recognised some bits, thought of some of it a wee bit differently after he gave his reasons but certainly cannot agree with his comment re acting and still feel that it ain't a 5 star affair...imo..shit...single male has just dissed a Palm D'Or winner...he obviously is obsessed with 'The Crow' and Tarantino quirky violence features and nowt else and so 'doesn't understand'...aargh...what's that line from 'Blue'? Can't find it away frae ma own PC but it's something about praying to be released from 'image'. If only you could slough off what people thought of you and how you come across to others/ have a fresh start etc etc. That would be something. Now everything for me goes through what I think others make of me. This is invariably negative..brought on by a combo of factors normally caused by myself. When I'm feeling down this can get rather shit to say the least...anyway...I digress...came 'hame'....Started to dwell on the situ re debt...thought of the potential hopelessness of it all...thought of having to change spending habits and of not being able to leave the shithole again (best viewed with the grammatical devices which I've banned, I would suggest) thought a bit of TLK but not much. Still struggling to shake off the feelings of wanting to be with her, to talk to her which I've had for a year. Still can't bring to mind the reality of our 'friendship' whenever I have these strong wishes to see her. I have to work on that...After midnight a lass from the world of dating who I've spoken to a few times...the 'picture' one...messaged me and we spoke on the MSN thing. It was another weird affair. I find our conversations very stilted. She continues to contact me and to be frank I don't know why. Don't think we have anything in common AT ALL. I suppose I've continued to talk out of politeness. Last night I had the strong feeling she was trying to hint that I suggest we meet up. I don't want to do that. This isn't my typical irrational fear thing. I've made an informed choice and I don't want to meet her. It's as simple as that. I thought about it but I know that I'm not interested. This is a mindblowing situ for me to be in. Unattractive males are not supposed to 'turn down' or discourage offers of dates. It isn't the done thing. Us unfortunates are supposed to be incessently doing the asking, getting knocked back but then going back and taking it on the chin like the jolly fat people we are. Normally the culture of dating does not allow a choice for non-nubiles. We ask and get knocked back and that's all. I feel like a total bastard doing it but I don't see a meaningful relationship coming from this. So there. I can't bring myself to ignore her messages either. Shit man, I've (nearly) seen the other side of the coin. Fuck....Up early again..freezing cold..some cricket but mostly procrastination re what to do with free time. Phoned the debt counsellor and arranged an apt for next week. This didn't provide me the cheer I thought it might. It also dawned on me that the lease on the shithole will run out soon. Read over the details. It looks as if it'll be automatically renewed month by month til the landlord wants me out..he might want me out after the next inspection...can't afford to go anywhere else for some time...H.M.P Saughton is just up the road..maybe I could become a petty thief lout and find some board there...and then in later years a middle class intellectual will write a screenplay about my story which will be lauded and applauded..by middle class intellectuals as real, gritty and so forth...perfect...tried not to dwell on this...failed...wandered out into the sunshine...yes it's true...it was still bitterly cold of course....got here to the land of the Interweb..Chloe Sevigny's in again.. Aussies are singing along to the funky music...it's dawning on me that I really quite like Supergrass...I'm 'tired of life and I'm waiting for thae miracles'...nothing much changes...

Crept Long

2006-03-13T08:30:00.000-08:00

So aye, the latter part of Sunday was ok, I think. After I left the land of the Interweb I drifted along to the Cowgate to see SM's new band playing at a metal all-dayer thing. It was freezing cold outside but oddly appeared to be even colder inside the Subway. This didn't rectify itself quickly either. Even the presence of 75 or so metallers didn't raise the temp to any great degree. Not sure that this is biologically possible. Maybe the pliss was populated entirely by the undead. The book of heavy metal does indeed draw the appropriate audience. SM's combo were giddily + hugely entertaining. This is not meant in the patronising stylee either. They were great fun. Total 'death' wig outs complete with some storming crunch and surging choruses. Sometimes the metal and punky fraternity tend to enjoy the generic elements of their music and get bemused when something is presented to them that doesn't quite beat the trod path. Under Thorns manage to rampage along this path and to not veer from it but also to retain their own brand of, as I have heard it described, 'paste', to a bone shattering nth degree. Gav, the singer and a man I have a fair amount of respect for due to his endeavours in the rather great In Decades Decline, seemed to be having the absolute time of his life. This involved grunty song intros, blood capsules and adoption of a splendidly OTT heavier than thou persona. I feel that too few folk tend to come away from too few gigs saying that they had a great time and that they enjoyed themselves. I can honestly say that I was entertained and had fun. I remind you too that this was their first gig. I think the potential for major heaviosity as well as high camp is there plain to see. Really did feel envigorated by this. If I wanted contrast, I found it in the world of commerce. I then headed oot o' town tae the Asda enormo store to buy another fat bastard shirt and some kitchen ephemera. Started thinking a wee bit more of DT and his funeral tomorrow. To counter this I phoned KB and had a guid chat on the usual subjects. This helped. Having a voice to talk to has become essential to me over the last wee while in particular. Not sure this is a good sign but I've tried to restore some perspective at most times. Expected to feel down once I got back to the shithole. Not sure that I did really. This gave me a reasonable feeling for the morn. Also while out at the Asda store I saw one of the biggest people I have ever seen. In a sicko style this cheered me up. Christ I am undoubtedly a fat bastard but some folk are way way bigger than me. I think this says something pretty shan re my character and I felt shit for thinking it. Add sizeism to my portfolio. 20-stone behemoth in 'I hate 30 stone men outburst'. Late on I had a wee MSN chat wi' A-W. We confirmed plans for meeting on Tuesday night. This made me very happy. Of course I'm already getting para re 'stuff'. I have to work on that.. even later I had a bit of a farcical exchange wi' another lass frae the land of contrived dating. We spoke once, a while back. I kinda left off talking to her online again as I wasn't sure we had owt in common...and other cliches... She messaged me and we chatted in a stilted manner for a while. We got friendlier and she started talking about 'her new photo'. I've had this situ before on Interweb dating things. These 'I'll show you mine etc etc' exchanges are something I don't know how to handle. What are you supposed to say if someone tells you they hae a new pic? Aye hen you look awfy nice?/ you looked better in the last one?/ where did you have yer hair done?... I feel like it's impossible to avoid being a sleazy mofo. I spoke wi' one person once who ended up emailing me a pic of her bosoms. This was not something I was keen on and certainly did not request it. It cooled things between us somewhat. Anyway, the inevitable exchange ensued and I sent her a new pic of me. I think she maybe wanted to make a 'final decision' on me via seeing a pic. I sent it after expressing some only slightly feigned reluctance. The general vibes with our 'chats' just seemed 'wrong' tho. Her initial reply to the photae was 'what's wrong with that?'. I sought clarification. I mentioned that I thought I may have sent her a tiny thumbnail thing. She replied with 'no it was ok here'. This was followed by total silence. I think my saturnine good looks left her somewhat nonplussed. The silence continued. Strangely enough I didn't mind. It's true. Anyway, I think I managed to keep certain feelings re DT and tomorrow sufficiently at bay....woke up on Monday. Felt shattered as if the weight o' the day had already started to descend. But practicalities managed to kick in and I got suited up. Not a natural thing at all for me. I genuinely detest suits. In all honesty and seriousness I would ban them. I'm not a fan of gestures of uniformity or of buying into a notion of importance or normality. To me all the suit does is signify compliance/ obedience and assorted class struggle crap that is probably too tiresome to bother outlining. By 'selling out' (fucking hell, the vacuity of that phrase defies belief) and wearing 'the suit' today I made a wee gesture for DT as he was a 'man of a certain age' who would have appreciated looking 'nice' and 'neat and tidy' etc. It don't mean that I intend to look for work with Deloitte Touche ok?..Managed to make it to my current work. Got carried along on the preparatory train. Got a taxi to the 'Crem' with a coupla the other clients. Forced jolity in the back seat. 'Avoidance' of talking re DT. An atmosphere that was simply 'wrong'. Finally made it there. A long taxi ride which took us past 2 'shunts'. The 'crem' in question was like a fucking plantation of death and mourning. Mammoth crematorium area complete with multiple chapels of various sizes and a huge cemetary quadrant as well. The sheer scale of it all was genuinely overwhelming. I felt like I was in Vegas. I thought an Elvis impersonator would appear and dish out a mean eulogy. My mind went way way off somewhere. I thought of DT telling me about Anthony Perkins and how he didn't like him very much. I recalled how he told me he used to work in a hotel...DT not Anthony Perkins... He liked the size of the place. He liked how he could hide in all the empty rooms. I thought of him telling me how he 'wasn't too bad. Not top of the form but ok'. I remembered him liking the fact I knew about modern films. He thought we were a good double act. He knew everything about anything which came out before the 70's. I knew most things after that. I remembered him asking me 'who are the only group who could play at The Royal Edinburgh Hospital? or 'what group could go in the REH and come out the same way?' My mind drifted on to TLK. I couldn't think of anything other than her telling me re going on a bender for a week. I remember her telling me she'd fallen while pissed and had a black eye. I was worried but I knew she would never accept me worrying about her. This thought hurt me again. I'm not 'over her'...more vacuity.... The reality of this brought me down even further. I was thinking all this when I saw her complete with black eye. She looked fried. She said 'alright?' to me without looking. She was walking away from me as she said it. I'm not sure I replied. Inside the chapel. Odd, chatty and 'inappropriate' comments from clients. Religious bullshit in spades and spades. The minister was a patronising streak of piss who seemed fixated on the fact that DT 'had a mental health problem'. This was what defined him in certain eyes. He was 'mad'. He was 'blighted'. In god's eyes he was probably 'an unfortunate' or someone to be cured by a random act along the lines of turning piss into Pernod. The combo of old shits in dog collars, the fact that every single person attending the funeral trotted out the line 'it was a lovely service', the fact that DT was dead and was rotting away inside a box in front of me, the fact that I couldn't allow myself to look in TLK's direction and the feeling I had that I was starting to get ill just about blew my mind. The feeling of being asleep that I'd felt on the day he died drifted back in. I was somewhere watching the events taking a certain shape. I was watching a scruffy fat man, scrubbed up, fidgeting in a big suit on the fringes of a group of people, most of them seemed to be laughing, none of them were talking to the fat man. Some of them were wearing suits. The suit wearers were talking less than the others. The others were chatting. They looked happier. They had 'got over' DT's death. The suited ones were weighed down by it. They couldn't get DT out of their minds. The fat man couldn't get DT or one of the non suit wearers out of his mind. He thought of them over and over. The thoughts came like a flood. A flood of rusty water from the 'red pond' near the Alcan plant in Burntisland to be precise. Red. Ginger hair. Blood. Coughing it up. Covering your feelings. Your pain. Blocking up your thoughts. Choking the fat man. The fat man almost gave in to this attack but realised he was being foolish. He snapped out of 'it' a little. He talked to the other people in suits and got in a taxi with them like he was supposed to. He didn't acknowledge anyone...anyway, I've got fed up of talking of masel in the third person or however many it is..maybe you get the message, maybe you don't..Not sure where the rest of the afternoon went but it did. I think I finally realised DT was dead when I got back to the work and we had a cup of tea and a sandwich for the sake of tradition. 3 people were there apart from me and the depute boss. I nearly choked on a cheese sandwich. I had to clean crushed egg off the carpet. TLK wasn't there. Neither was DT. I thought so much of him. He didn't realise. His life held little for him outside of pain and suffering. He genuinely wanted to die. Some would say 'He's at peace now' well, I know he can't think and feel anymore. He's nothing but bones and rotting flesh. There's nothing physical that made him him.He's gone. There's nothing there to generate more of the madness and turmoil and pain and delusion and strife which ran through the DT I knew. Maybe he is at peace. All there is is his wee black bag of clothes and photos and glasses and books ready for the charity shop. The thought of this sitting in his flat fucking destroys me. You too can buy the detritus of a life for a quid. It's not right...

Came out of the fog for a while later in the day I think. Told the depute I would be quitting my job as soon as I had something else. I was going for 'personal and financial' reasons. In reality I'm going exclusively for TLK reasons. I need more money, aye, but I can't handle being around her, particularly if she's going to give me the cold shoulder. I think I know her. She doesn't particularly like reflecting on things. She tends to just cut you off if she thinks you might hassle her or cause her angst or get in the way of anything. I know that now. Think she might start to be 'difficult' at work too. Maybe I'm not thinking straight. Maybe I am. Who knows? Anyway..got away frae work.. Met AM. Great chat and company. Felt as if I was ok. Went home to the shithole. Felt ravaged by paranoia. Remembered a msg TLK left in the diary at work. It was petty. A needless dig at me. She's out to annoy me and hurt me. She hates me. Everyone does. She'll turn me against KS. She'll drive me out as soon as she can. She'll hurt me even more. I'm alone. I can't take it. It'll always be like this. Felt my head going out the window. Phoned mother, of all people. She loves me. I've never doubted that. I needed to feel that. Of course the reality is I tell her too much and she gets so wrried about me that she gets ill too. I fuck everything up etc etc. Think she did bring me round a bit tho'. Managed to sleep on Mon night, fairly well in fact but still fucking knackered on Tue. Got into work late. Thoughts still there but buried in fatigue. Met KS. She was the same as ever. A Fifer. Friendly. Real. Open. I told her I was leaving. She said 'I hope you change your mind'. She meant it. I felt better. She said ' Don't leave because of one person. One member of staff'. I mumbled something unconvincing I can't remember. She knew the score. This made me feel way way better. Had a bit of a compassionate interrogation from the area manager at the work later. He was dying to find out why I was leaving. I repeated the personal and financial thing. He said 'we would rather you stayed with us'. Somehow he seemed to know why I was leaving too. I didn't know how he could tell this from what I said. This didn't make mne feel quite as good. It seemed as if he'll give TLK and me shit at one point for the fact she came down to the hospice on the day DT died. She wasn't on duty. I was. She wanted to be involved. To do something for DT. I wished it was because she wanted to support me. She didn't do it for this reason. I have been very stupid of late. Apparently the fact she came down created 'operational issues'. I really couldn't give a rat's ass...The day finished wi' another client emergency...hospitalisation...piss and shit everywhere...ambulance called...another sick person...conveyer belt of misery...Didn't seem able to dwell on all of this. I just washed my hands and went on a date with A-W. Jeez, I like A-W a great deal. It's taken me 2 dates to realise this. She is a lovely person. Kind. Passionate. A bit bruised. Uncertain at times. Funny. Warm. I will say now that I predict I will fall in love with her before long. I know I shouldn't make predictions but in this case part of me wants to. As to whether she 'likes' me. Of course I'm not sure. We clearly get on well. We're going on a 3rd 'date' next week. This makes me happy. I'll keep you briefed....Wed so far has been 'an average day' for me. Flurries of activity and frustration at work. Some good thoughts whenever A-W comes to mind. Some TLK paranoia. Some feelings of worthlessness. Some hopelessness re debt. The odd thought of 'ending it'. The odd thought of places I might go one day. Uncertainty of where I'm going, what I am etc...I have the odd moment where I feel as if I just soak it all up like an old sponge. These aren't bad feelings by any means. Post work, I ended up here in Interweb land yet again. Chloe Sevigny is on shift tonight. She looks incredible. I feel like nothing but the embodiment of hetero scum. Earlier she had a rather amazing sesh of flirting wi the Spanish guy who works here. He had just flipped his lid over some 'staffing issues'. The way he pronounced 'motherfucker' and 'shit' were simply magnificent. CS likes him a great deal. I really hope they get it together. CS's pal arrived later. They have great French accents...hetero scum again...it's all quite exhilerating...ain't it just....

PS The answer to both of DT's two questions was....Madness...he really was a great man...

Cling Film Over The Porcelain

2006-03-12T06:06:00.000-08:00

So it's Sunday. Last night wasn't too clever. Felt very bad. Think I'd started to realise that it's DT's funeral on Mon. There are times when I really can't stand being alone. They seem to be becoming more frequent. That's all I need to complete the set. I'm a sad man. I'm a lonely man. I maybe come across as an angry man. The more I mention it I become a needy man too. Ultimately the way the world works is that you have to remain silent about yer feelings. Obviously there is a kinda reason for this. ie it genuinely would be pretty shite if everyone you met fired into the exact detailed description of the whys and wherefores re their mood/problems etc but I still feel that 'we' (ie the human race. Fucking hell. maybe it's me who's been to the Findhorn Foundation after all. I too have went on the insistent obsessive search for 'meaning') can work on the way we interact wi' each other. I'm not saying take on everyone's baggage of course but maybe I think we could listen to each other a bit mair. I particularly dislike the way that folk ask if you're ok and then get pissed off when you say 'well, no'. I realise I risk coming across as a psycho but godamnit I want honesty from folk. I want to be able to take them at face value. My thought processes today seem to demand this. I want to know how you feel about me. I will try to tell you how I feel about you. I'm going to try to do that from now. The other way seems to fuck me up. BTW no I have not been 'at the waccy baccy'. Anyway, swiftly moving on...Had a restless night. Thought I was going to fall into a nadir but strangely didn't. Felt ok when I woke up. Still disliked who I am and where i stay etc but then I expect that now. These thoughts appeared dulled. Maybe because it was so cold I was totally unable to 'feel' anything. The shithole was quite unfeasibly frosty. I sat for a wee while and then felt I had to get moving somewhere. Spoke for a while with CT. Don't know if I've mentioned him beforehand but we knew each other frae days of 'activism' (one day I'll tell you mair) and mutual residence in T-Hall, a dingy part of Kirkcaldy. He is probably the brightest person I've met, certainly the one most able to think things through and work out solutions etc. He moved down south a while ago, probably not long after I moved here. I miss seeing him. He has a superbly unruffled air going down. He told me that he was intrigued what 'a shaggy one' was. I feel that I shall have to try to define it further. Right here goes... the shaggy ones are young student age upper middle class males. They will have plummy accents of one kind or another. This might be refined Runcorn or simply educated Andy Irvine Morningside. They will be of the indie or at least studenty persuasion. They will be well educated or in the process of 'educating' themselves, exclusively using their 'parental contribution'. They will have tously/big/shaggy hair, either in actual fact or figuratively. They will have something 'fun and wacky' about them. They will give the impression that they find interaction with 'girls' easy and will often boast to their mates, in a Tim Nice But Dim manner of how they scored with Laura/ Hannah etc. They will adopt an air of total bemusement when non shaggy ones approach them. This is 100% calculated and is designed to show their distance from the non nubile world and their contempt for folk who cannot possibly move in their circles. They realise that if they ever 'get serious' in their conversation and thoughts then their attractiveness to wispy girls will fade and die. They dress in a self consciously scuffed manner. This is entirely contrived and is intended to show ease/self confidence/freedom ie the basic tenets of shagginess which is ultimately a device or style put in place to achieve the easy life/sex/confirmation of 'privilege' granted by upbringing/looks/ finances etc . They will never outwardly express any self doubt or inner turmoil. This again does not get them laid so therefore it is superfluous to requirements. They will never listen to 'challenging music'. This again is anti-social and 'not fun'. If they are of the indie persuasion they will know everyone in the band and they will probably DJ at a shaggy club night. They will be 'Belle and Sebastian' people and not 'Merzbow' people. They may adopt ninny-ish dancing styles. This is particularly prevalent in shaggy ones from the weege. They may occasionally get away from the urban sprawl and betray their roots in affluent villages by getting involved in 'outdoor activity'. This will provide more scope for 'clowning around' in a gormless manner which their intendeds will always love. All a Jeremy/ Matt/ Ben/ Sam needs to do to 'pull' is pretend to fall off his snowboard. This will provide a whole term's worth of flirty chat. They will be morbidly obsessed with style but will never admit it. The best way to spot one is to listen for exaggerated laughter, look for frottage on the dancefloor and to look out for me crying into my beer while I look at them from the side. In fact, no, the best way to find one is to think of Simon Amstell and then go figure...I hope that clears it up... CT indicated that he intended to become 'a shaggy one' and train me in the ways. I blackly welcomed the prospect of that. Now where was I?...my mood remained fairly high after speaking to CT. After that spoke briefly with JP. Again she helped to get my TLK feelings into perspective. Felt a bit like Gareth Cheeseman but somehow this was ok for a lifelong Boo Radley..the Robert Duvall one not the Sice one of course..anyway as ever, I've ended up in the land of the Interweb. They played the Les Ferdinand LP again. Whenever the lovely Chloe Sevigny French lass (to give her full emancipated hetero scum name) is on shift, this album plays on a loop tho' she seems to have added a Gypsy Kings record to her selection. Maybe I should ask her if she's 'a Merzbow person'? Maybe not. Trying not to think of work and DT's funeral tomorrow. Trying not to think of seeing TLK again. It seems to be working at the moment. Would like to speak to A-W again. She told me on Thur that it was her birthday yesterday so I sent her a wee txt last night. I'm desperately trying to break the damaging over analysis thing I have going on as a matter of course. It's formed from 35 years of habit. It's a bastard to shake off but of course I have to keep trying. I'm determined that I shall give you none of the usual bullshit when it comes to A-W as I will not be thinking it at all. Shit man. It has to be new start time. I want to write off the last year, I really do. It's been a total mess in so many ways. TLK. overspending. weight gain. grog. general stupidity. 'death games'. 'learned behaviour. Utter crap all of it. I've been dying to use this phrase since I first thought of borrowing it... 'Mockingbird Wish Me Luck'...ha ha..

You Can't Trust Violence

2006-03-12T05:39:00.000-08:00

The same songs continue to play. Played on an Alba stereo as if I were back in ma council flat in T-Hall. Ich heisse Super Fantastich. How many times can you hear it? It worms it's way in. It doesn't make me feel better. It makes me think of the mythical endless night over and over. The soundtrack provided by me shouting into the void in the boomiest way I can manage. It don't make it. Why do I keep thinking it might? Internalised. Dull vagary. Lonely song. Corpulent man. Out on a limb. The railway bridge asks you to contact The Limbless Association. Conspiracy theories are invented at The Findhorn Foundation. Maybe that's where Jim Tolmie ended up. Andy Ritchie? What about Ante Lasic? Have you ever been bumped off in 'The Glens'? Milan Figala lived and died there. In Spam the Neighbourhood Watch is king. Eunice Nuttal was the love interest for Fred Feast. She had fingers in the till. I lost it alright. To get my life back on track I needed to take recourse to Gumbel. I would have preferred to smoke a few mofos. Dope beats come to Smeaton. Schemies tried to set you on fire. Tonight is the night of the burned out car. It was rolled onto the gress at the back o' St. Kilda to keep the shite company. T-Hall Tokers. Offences for assault and 'dishonesty'. Shane and Wayne Drain. The emaciated man who bellowed 'THAT'S FUCKIN' PISH' at the surrealist twins who lived in Hazel Avenue. Returning triumphant. A' these bastards with 2:1's. Meet my girlfriend. I live in the city now. 'Oh you're not working?'. The annual disgrace. See them everywhere. They're back with a progress report. Meet people in pubs who say 'I'll suck your cock. You'll like it'. A soiree like no other. Quasi-mythical nights in Rich/ Rick's family lock up. Meanwhile the Nep's possee threw stanes at the K5. 'I remember graduation'...no I don't.

A Work Of Fiction

2006-03-11T15:20:00.000-08:00

It's late. A sense of dissatisfaction. This is the way it is. Edgy. Cold. So alone it automatically sounds like 6th form shit. Maybe it is. That don't make it any easier. Toughing it out. That's the way it goes. You're maybe in with a crowd. Immersed. What do I make of it? I find it hard to give you sympathy. That wouldn't help anyway. I'm not sure you'll bring yourself out of it and there's no way anyone else will either. Predicament. Staring me in the face. Money. Work. Sex. Hope. Self-respect. 'Death games'. I'm not a judgemental person. That was why you liked me. I wish I was different. Then I wouldn't be where I am now. You will do your own thing. Maybe it'll end up bad. I hope not. I won't be involved. I'm happy with that.

Papering Ower

2006-03-11T13:15:00.000-08:00

Using the TV as company. It's a family trait. 'She watched it when she was lonely at night'. The absurdity of this suggestion. The final insult. I remember the rumour I heard that Johnny Cash once visited Kinghorn. Picture the man in black telling you that he 'kent the reels' at 'Fat Collett's Arcade'. Smoking Cinnamon sticks wi' Da Hill. Maybe Da put a lighter between JC's legs when he was playing 'Gorf' and shouted 'jap's eye'. Surely JC felt the despair of waiting for 'Fritz' to make yer Kebab...without the chilli sauce and salad of course...Naturally he got paggered by 'Fat Bull' and 'Fire Damage' when he visited 'The Bay'. It was a rite of passage for him. Maybe he played in the 'Show Am' at Bisland Golf 'House' Club. He could have replaced Andy Stewart who was only there 'health permitting' and who was dead by the time anyway. How did I survive this pliss? 'Old Mick' pished himsel in the Auld Hoose daily. 'Bonkers' soon became an old folk's home. My gran died there. 1990. 19 ah wuz. This town only breeds poodles. Bands who sound like Bon Jovi. I once saw Claude Bols in the town. He was a 'blue' comic. My dad knew who he was. My dad knows nothing else about the outside world. Masonic activity was rife. They were all at it. Unrecognised. Hanging out my window. The world isn't really out there after all.

I catch the very tailend of that ugly grin.

2006-03-11T11:20:00.000-08:00

They want to save the population. They want to batter you with their funk. DA Weibring. Donny Wahlberg. Saturdays are like raw sewage. Why do some folk call it 'sewerage'? It's bestiality/ beastiality all over again. A fish restaurant. Alcohol withdrawal. Bog standard thought. Happy happy happy times. Why has nobody heard of you? Even tho' I'm bald and old I hope my opinion matters. Maybe it doesn't? Ennui has settled in. Boil in the bag foodstuffs. Where am I going? Way way down on the Bayou # 345. Boogie woogie will play in the background. I can't think of anything worse 'cept Orange Juice. The party continues. Welcome to 'Night Magic'. Billy Sloan wi' his leather jacket sleeves rolled up. Sunday afternoon jams in the High Street. Claudio Caniggia opened it up. Ivano Bonetti got butted by a tea cup smasher. Jamie Sandy won the Challenge Cup. The Sport's Day was stewarded by freemasons. Dad said 'that's a vile smell'. He shagged other women. He was a man's man. Downloading jpegs called 'butt fuck' don't make it either. I was asked if I had ever been...to Kelty. I've been there many times. 'I made a lot of mistakes...in my mind'. It was all impossible. I never wrote any songs. I never played anything. I never owned any 'Gorky's'. I never smiled at you. I never danced with you. I didn't laugh. I didn't make any sense.

We Write Threnodies, We Write With Explosions.

2006-03-11T10:07:00.000-08:00

Saturday. The fucking weekends are always worse. You see people in the process of living life and engaging in all manner of activity which might just be fulfilling and memorable. I've always found this difficult to watch. I mean of course I have times where I have fun and enjoy masel. But when you go through a period of feeling down these times just never seem to happen OFTEN ENOUGH and the amount of times you see other folk seemingly strolling through life becomes more and more frequent. I'm not mad enough to be unable to identify this as delusional shit on my part but I still feel it so strongly. This belief that folk can saunter through their lives without a care while others have to deal with all manner of shit tends to be there with me most of the time. I feel as if I struggle to know how I feel about things, with what I want to do, how I want to be, while these bastards manage pretty well. At the moment I feel as if I'm on the verge of getting ill again. Not had the racing thoughts 24/7 as yet but the mega negative stuff usually ushers it in. All I can say is that I will try to fight it. I never know whether it helps to express it outwardly or not. Sometimes it makes me focus even more acutely on how bad I'm feeling. I'm starting to get aware of the lack of perspective sneaking in again. The paranoia re what folk think of me and how I come across to them. Fucking unbelieveable feelings of loneliness. They all tend to be signs. I know it sounds weird for me to be able to identify these 'symptoms' while they're happening but I've always been able to do that, to think about what's happening. It normally doesn't mean I can stop it going ahead but at least I know what I'm 'fighting' to a certain extent. Sorry for the use of tabloid language. It seems oddly apt....after I posted earlier I went to meet my brother and sister-in law. Can't mind if I've mentioned them before but they're seriously good sorts. Caring, friendly, non-judgemental etc. Most o' the good stuff. Don't feel as if I can talk about much of my shit with them but that's maybe not a bad thing . Went for scran with them and then went to a boozer in Rose St. primarily to watch rugger on telly and of course by extension rugger buggers in action in the bar. I used to like rugby a lot as a bairn before I realised the 'cultural hegemony' which surrounds it. In all honesty this has put me off since then. I suppose I still like watching the gemme but can't handle the sight of all thae Barbours and hip flasks in concert. I know that cricket is a toff's gemme too but cricketing ya's seem more cartoonish and less 'threatening'. It's maybe just cause fewer folk play the gemme up here too and it has always been 'my game' as well therefore I think I'm in control of any blazerati..to a certain extent. That's bullshit ain't it? I'll leave you to guess what I mean by that, I think. ..so while in the pub I missed a call on the moby. I presumed it was another financial services thing but when I noticed a msg was on there I kent it wasn't frae them. It was TLK. She inquired how I was and asked me to phone her if I got the msg. My first instinct was to ignore it and of course I should have done this but of course I didn't. I phoned her back. She asked me what had happened last Sunday. She said she was so gassed she hadn't really noticed. One minute I was in the pub and the next minute I wasn't. I asked if she wanted the honest answer. She did so I mentioned my feelings on the day and how I felt she just fucked off. She initially apologised for being 'insensitive' but tried to stand her ground at the same time. I mentioned that we had different ways of dealing with things. She mentioned that she had been on a bit of a bender all week. This had started on Sun. I told her that I felt very shit on Sunday. I couldn't deal with the DT thing. I felt she was being supportive one minute and then suddenly withdrew that. She told me that 'when I'm sitting listening to someone talking like that (I'm not saying you were doing that John) sometimes I need to just get away from it and go talk to someone else or about something else so I don't get drawn into it myself and so my mood goes down too'. I couldn't really handle her saying this given the context o' the day. I repeated the thing re different ways of 'dealing', mentioned that we were different people and that we would probably disagree at this point. I also pointed out that there were different ways of doing what she wanted rather than suddenly leaving someone, supposedly a pal, who was looking for support and was in the midst of a feeling we were being mutually supportive. She asked 'can you understand why I needed to get away?' I replied ' No, I don't think I can understand'. She didn't like this. I didn't like her saying what she had said. In my fraught head it confirmed that she can only be supportive to a certain amount that suits her. After that it's all about geting blotto and getting away from things. It's almost as if this is what a person is supposed to automatically need to do to get over things...get immersed in madness. It's the way she is, I suppose. I just get immersed in my own personal madness. Maybe I feel this is 'more honourable'. That is of course flawed. Me being 'a sad man' I worry about her too but she won't let me go there and I can't be bothered offering thae concerns anymore. I think she sensed I wanted to keep talking and said 'I don't think this is the time and the place to talk about this'. She annoyed me even more by yawning constantly at this point. We talked a little re work. I went on to describe how I had really needed to talk to her on Mon/Tue but she didn't appear to be returning the couple of calls I made. I said I presumed she was annoyed at me so I wasn't going to keep phoning. I apologised for storming out. She didn't seem to be annoyed at this. She was just 'on this bender'. That phrase seemed to contain more self pity than even I could ever produce. I wanted to tell her to sort hersel out and quit the self absorption but that would have been a bit rich. I said that I'm not sure I want to come back to work. I think things have ran their course. She advised me against packing it in. She said she thought I sounded depressed and should take some time off. I bit the bullet, mentioned the vibes that, imo, go down and said there were times I didn't feel supported at work. She said 'by me?' I said yes. She said 'what do you expect from me?' I said I needed consistency from both friends and colleagues. I said that I tried to give her support. She agreed that I did. I also said that I knew she didn't want this from me. I said there are times when it's as if 'you're no that bothered' about me at work and that you switch off. I mentioned that at times she made a big thing re supporting each other and then tended not to do it. She stayed a wee bit aloof tho' polite and apologised once or twice, for what I can't remember, and I think she just wanted to get off the phone after a while. She said that we could talk 'another time'. I felt like saying 'yeah right' or something silly but thankfully didn't. That's about it really. She immerses hersel in drink to get away frae things. I turn everything inwards and fuck masel up that way. I suppose I also take what folk say to me at face value. That obviously is a fucking daft thing to do, particularly when grog is doing the talking. After talking it dawned on me a bit that maybe my feelings for her are informing all of this after all. Or are they? One minute I know they aren't. Then I can't separate them again. I know I haven't consciously thought re 'pursuing her' or owt like that. I haven't but maybe I've just continued trying to be pally purely as a second best thing. I probably have clung defiantly to this when she clearly isn't up for that. I shouldn't have done that but of course she shouldn't describe us as being friends either and then not following through wi' anything that ties in with friendship. (Shit...reading this back. It doesn't make ANY sense at all. That's probably a realistic depiction o' ma insanity then..fuck...) So..I really wish I hadn't spoken to her. I don't think anything got resolved or changed, far from it. I hope I didn't sound manipulative or come across as an arsehole but I probably did. Incredibly, five minutes after we'd hung up I got a jolly txt from her re a laugh we had a few months ago. She is truly impossible to read. Maybe I am too...So as ever I've came away to the land of the Interweb. I'm not going to censor masel at this point. I've sat and thought of ending it for the last half an hour. I've thought about how I would do it. When I was ill before I got obsessed with the idea of jumping from this block of flats in Kdy. I used to deliver the post there and I rather liked the way they looked. I thought on many occasions re how I would just get the lift up to the top and take it from there. It was oddly comforting to have decided on your method. Man, I can't face things- my life, my willy, my flat, my debts, my 'ways', my hair, my lack of ability, my lack of 'insight or connection'. I know that I have to get over these thoughts and these problems and hopefully I will. I don't know how right now but maybe I will soon...

The Rest...

2006-03-10T06:02:00.000-08:00

.. started to feel a bit weird PM Friday...shit that's a glib beginning. I'm dying to get all silly on yo ass and say ..well a wee bit mair weird than normal..ha ha.. which I suppose I've ended up doing. Kinda inevitable I suppose but still no that welcome. Ditto re my mood 'change'. Have found myself ruminating on my usual stuff (more of which later) but also getting totally fixated on my excessive use of exclamation marks on past posts. These feelings reveal the pretentious arsehole in me but the exclamations reveal the daft wee bairn in me/my inner and covert desire to adopt a cheeky and positive early 90's indie kid persona and I don't really dig it that much. I suppose my excuse for including them is to make the stuff I write more 'conversational' in tone. I still want to do that but these ticks make me sound like some 'thumbs aloft Macca person' and I wish to try to avoid that big time. I'm going to have to improve the way I write to get round accentuating everything with an exclamation as I would do before. Not sure I have that much room for improvement but I will just have to try godamnit. I'm so embarassed at the sheer volume of the fucking things on some of the posts. Jeez..This really bothers me ...Where was I? Aye...I left you on Thur prior to continuing my dressing up vibes for the 'date'. I visited my usual lardy boutique in the West End and purchased a coupla things. It's a deflating shoppe to go into. For a start the prices are quite simply ridiculous but some of their stuff is rather nice. It is one of the few places I can get relatively decent stuff in my size. The staff there can be invasive and very hard selly. (After using that phrase, I can't get Ian Selly out of my mind. I think he was an Arsenal journeyman who signed for Fulham at the start o' the Al Fayed 'revolution' and then got permanantly crocked. Oh the (non) pathos therin. It's a nicely silly name. I really wish Tal Selly would become a household nimm so we could say it more often. Maybe it comes from my days of watching 'Telly Selly Time' on Tiswas. Christ... infantile/male diversion...ahem...) It's like Grace Brothers (complete with measuring tapes nailed roond the neck) if it was staffed by a mix of humanities students and Colin Montgomery lookalikes. One of the hey-students appears to use a voice box transplanted from an old boss I used to have when I worked in Cupar and to also have the same personality. It's quite eerie. I feel like saying to him "Paul, is that you?" He's had the world's first brain transplant, I'm sure of it. Anyway, I can't stand the knowing/gleeful looks you get from them as a fat person when you go in. They look dead chuffed whenever they see me as if they've found the veritable apogee of their target audience. Ah, here's a man with a Crabtree gut. He looks introverted too. He may be trying to buy normality/personality/a normal personality. Now there's someone who will clearly spend loads of £ on 'designer outsize clothing'. The man with the brain of Paul Larg was virtually rubbing his hands together when I came in..some nice commission from this bloater methinks...anyway, scored 2 items at a cost of ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE POUNDS all in. Reeled in shock back to the shithole and tried to dress up a 20-stone turd in Ben Sherman. Had the usual low thoughts and vibes prior to going on the date 'ritual'. But...when I met A-W that all changed (imagine an exclamation right now please). Bloody hell. I think we got on well. I liked her. I'm pretty sure of that. She was bright. Forthright. Very honest. Great company. Great fun...shit...not totally sure what she made of me tho' she did say that she 'felt comfortable' around me. This made me happy. It's probably the least 'date-like' date I've been on and that worked for me as my head tends to get caught up in trying to act in the way that I feel 'a normal person' would act in a certain situ. On reflection I think I mentioned the war a few times and hopefully got away with it. In this case the war took the form of 1) a genuine question re the type of sink in the ladies toilets(explanation available on request) 2) The appearance of a snotter on my upper lip. I took the honesty route and told her that I was aware of it and that the conversation would be suspended til I dealt with the offending blob of mucous (please recall above note re inserting a certain grammatical device at this point) 3) the mention of 'a colleague at work who I had an unrequited thing about' ie TLK. I felt so at ease with her that I mentioned it as it was on my mind and it did kinda come in the context of what we were talking about. I have to say that it probably wasn't ideal to mention this but I just didn't want to hide stuff. I also felt it would help me in the ongoing process of getting rid of TLK thoughts and 4) the mention of this blog. Blogs were one of the first topics that came up. I kinda dove in by saying that I had one of my own. She then expected me to clarify it's topic. I said that it was a 'personal one' and tried to change the subject. Later she came back round to it and I had to elaborate a wee bit more and I mentioned about the type of things I wrote in it. This was where the TLK reference came in. I'm not sure that I'm quite ready to let A-W see this as yet tho' of course she may be reading it right now. I'm feared she'll think I'm a) obsessed with TLK b) insane c) 'a psycho' and d) am the perfect embodiment of 'paranoia man in cheap shit room' (thanks MES), all of which may or may not be true but what I'm most bothered about is that she'll see those exclamations, find out I'm a joke and realise she has 'seen enough'. I don't want that to happen. There were a number of highlights for me on Thur night. One of which was the fact that she had seen 'Dogville' and wanted to see 'Manderlay'. Another was when she said she had written a screenplay. Another was when I noticed she had lovely eyes. There were others but I'll start sounding like Michael Buble if I continue. Much to my delight we are going to be meeting again next week. Of course me being a negative mofo, I'm thinking of one of the last folk I had a date with. The first one went well. She seemed very different on the second one and then sent me a txt which said that 'we weren't compatible'. Look, all I'm saying is that I hope that doesn't happen here. I probably need to add at this point that the 'different on a 2nd date' person had said on a number of occasions that she really liked Joss Stone. I just couldn't get this out of my head. I kinda knew we were 'incompatible' because of that but also because of 'other factors' too. Anyway...walked home on Thur night feeling ok about things. Looking forward to seeing A-W again already..jeez...so therefore why I woke up feeling very poor on Friday was something of a mystery as well as a blow. I felt directionless as I often do on days off and didn't know what to do. Got down re debt but didn't call the counsellor. Felt a fair degree of despair...I always feel so self conscious writing things like that. I can't get over thinking that it's the sort of thing a 15 year old middle class nu metaller does in an attempt to facilitate his first fumble. Shit man I just don't know how else to explain what/how I'm feeling. Well, the old movement in my brain sent me out into the rain and I wandered along in the vague direction o' Prionces Street via the moby repair shop where I paid £15 to rectify a 'charging issue' (the inclusion of that line just makes me feel like Terry Medford), I then got copiously shat on by a bird, probably a blood red one to boot. This was not the most pleasant of experiences. My mind went straight back to the pigeon which masel and KB saw eating vomit a coupla weeks back. Fuck. Anyway, sacrificed 2 hankies in an attempt to clean the schecht. Immediately after this I continued on ma route and bumped into TLK's best pal. Quite frankly,I didn't know how to react. She asked if I'd seen TLK. I felt a huge weight crashing down. All I said was 'no' but I think I said it in a way that invited no debate. I could see her looking and her mood changing, sensing something was going down. She mentioned that TLK had told her I 'had left the pub' on Sunday. I think I just grimaced. She started to ask if we'd had an argument but then before I could answer said ' don't worry about it, It's TLK' (obviously I'm paraphrasing). This made me rather angry. Shit, I'm almost greeting in the Interweb caff as I write this. She then remembered TLK's occasional tendency to say crappy things while drunk and asked with a knowing look 'What did she do? What did she say?'. I couldn't answer her and I hoo-hah'd for a bit, wanting to tell her but realising I couldn't. She then made to go and said 'I'm sure I'll see you soon with TLK' I just mumbled 'maybe' at her. I had lost it. I realised that I didn't have anwhere to go in particular so I turned roond and made for the interweb caff which was in the direction she was going. I said 'I'll get you along'. Don't know if this freaked her out a bit but she suddenly seemed uncomfortable. Maybe she thought my mood was 'intense' or something, which it probably was but only internally. She appeared to make for the first shop she came to and said 'I'm going in here' . We then had another wee chat where she stated again that she wanted to know what was 'up'. I couldn't tell her but daftly said 'look, do you want to know?'. She decided that she didn't and then we went our respective ways. It was a very odd meeting. Strained/ fraught. A big contrast to how it usually is with her. I wandered about again. Back to the land o' the Interweb. Was too muddled to write about it. Ended up in the shithole....where it normally does. Couldn't handle being alone. Got a txt from CH so we met up for a while and had some scran and chat. I think we were both a bit down and it felt good to be around a kindred spirit. We thought re going to see some indie rock at the backpacker's place in the west end. Hope I didn't put him off but I'd heard a track by the band in question, Econoline, earlier on in the day and I couldn't get the singer's mumbly indie vocals out my mind. I didn't really want to go. I remember one spectacularly drunken night in Swampy's Bar where I started shouting at some rubbish band with a guy who sounded like Andrew Eldritch on vocals. I couldn't handle it. It's made me sheepish 'bout going to Swampy's ever since. Came back once again to the shithole. Loneliness. This is a thing I feel so self conscious writing about, I suppose because it's such a well documented phenom. I just feel edgy and dull (ha) writing about my own as if there's no way I could ever add anything. Last night I felt loneliness akin to the post DT/TLK feeling on Sun. It was truly horrid. So here I am once more (I can't resist getting thae geek culture refs in) in the depths- skint, living in self imposed squalor, alone, alone, alone. My mind rambled over TLK. I'm clearly nowhere near 'getting over her'. I still want to see her. I also never want to talk to her again. Should I be angry with her? Am I angry with her? Am I just angry with me? How am I going to react when I see her? I moved onto thoughts o' work and had these feelings of never wanting to go back. I associated work so strongly with a chance to be with her and to see her that it just didn't hold ANY attraction at all now. Even tho' there were days when she almost ignored me anyway I can't stand the prospect of going in to work and not having that illusion of being close to her. I just didn't know where to turn last night. I think I physically tired myself out with all of it and thankfully I crashed out . Of course I dreamt about her but I didn't expect anything different. So this morning. The weekend. The children of the solicitors of the world scuttle about enjoying 'leisure time'. I abhor the certainty and the completeness these bastards present. Oh we're going to the Meadows. We're going to meet Roy. We're going to Grand Cru. Fuck you and yer world you wee shites....powerful stuff eh?...Debt's been the thing this mornin'. My credit card seems to be maxed. Limited budget til pay day. I probably owe £50, 000 or somnething like that. A financial institution of some kind has been trying to contact me ALL week. 2 0r 3 times a day plus txts. I'm trying to put it off, to avoid it. It's a recurring theme...

Thanks Bert/ What happened to 'Cass The Busker'?, he was famous for wearing a big coat in 1988, he probably bought it from 'Ultarian'.

2006-03-09T05:50:00.000-08:00

For the first time in my life, I can ask you if I come across a bit too 'she done me wrong'. Despite the allure of power drinking, I intend to 'hold it together'. I've done me wrong. I accept reponsibility. Now it seems as if the focus will go on to a different road to ruin. The normalisation process. Part of me wants to enter this land of insanity where you too could have hot grits poured over you at any minute. Part of me wants to be one of those who 'all look forward to their Saturdays'. Repeat use. Where are Brian + Michael? Where is Mike Morris? Where is Mike Scott? How many volumes of 'Refried Ectoplasm' are there on the market? Has anyone ever seen 'the apples scene'? Has anyone seen 'Cocksucker Blues'? The 'potting shed' sequence. Has anyone lived in 'the bawbee'? Tins of beer in the bath at 8AM. 'Calling All Girls'. 'It's the thing with the hook, way down in lover's lane'. World travellers never come to Bowhill. The Moggers slum it wi' folk frae Cowdengelly. More multiple use. A missing person. Self conscious declaration. I am a thinking and feeling person. How can the solitary ones believe this? It's easy for the shaggy ones. Rough sex. Prediliction. Nobody knows where they stand. You 'got bruised while you were shagging'. You got yer man to buy you sex toys. Birthday lingerie. There you go hen. Something for you. 'and all the while being held, like a big old baby'...

Captain

2006-03-09T01:00:00.000-08:00

Oddly peeved re the spammy 'comment' left on here. Next it'll be 'make your cock break through walls' or 'get your 'meds' online'. It kinda puts into solid form at last a' thae tumbleweeds I expected to blow through here as a matter of course. It's helped to make me feel kinda shite. Not really sure why. Maybe it's all down to an exemplar of some absurd + perverse inclination towards me having 'an artistic temperament'. For fuck's sake man, this week has been a total maelstrom and in the middle of it all I'm thinking how my 'creative integrity' has been impugned. I continue to disappoint masel with monotonous regularity. Feel weary today. Thinking about debt and the prospect of having nae money. NEED to go back to the debt counsellor I saw after xmas but I just can't motivate masel to do it so instead I hang aboot thinking re how deep in the shit I am while it gets worse and worse by the second. Obviously still thinking about DT too. Christ, it's hit me the funeral is on Monday. How heavy is this going to be? Pretty scary I would guess. My mind will be full of him and the tragedies therein. It will also be full of TLK and the shite of the situ therein. Add to this the ongoing work 'struggles' and it can't be anything but a testing day. I will see it through for DT tho'. The guy deserves it. Already agreed to meet up with AM later on on Mon. This will be great from the pov of having good company/distraction (shit that sounds crass when written down) but it also guards against getting embroiled into anything with TLK. Now that KS is back at work (she's been off sick for a while) tho', TLK will probably 'hang out' with and stay close to her which will be good for me. That was very much the way it went when I started there. They were a close unit. KS never excluded anyone tho' while TLK can give off these sorta vibes. I honestly can't predict how relations with her will go at the work. She can be very hard to predict. I would guess that rather than being annoyed at me she probably isn't even thinking about anything slightly related to me so in my eyes she will come across as distant/evasive etc. I need to break down these feelings and the impulse to filter everything through her. I intend not to make any attempt to remain close to her. That sounds a tad absurd but I have to be extremely firm. I have many many flaws but I think I've seen a fair bit of her character that I'm not going to put up with any more. I need to cut her off and she probably isn't bothered so in theory it shouldn't be hard at all. I've started off with odd wee psychological stuff. Doubt if there's any way I can tell this story without sounding like a total psycho but I kept all the txt messages she ever sent me. All of them. Stored away in my crappy wee phone. Not sure why. I think I saw them as the only tangible tokens of 'affection' (FUCKING HELL...I really NEED to use exclamation marks right now...) she had ever given me. They stayed there as an example o' ma desperation rather than anything else. Well, I got rid of them all yesterday. I cried while I did it. I made it worse (or was it better??) by playing Catpower's 'colors and the kids' while I was doing it. The combo made me cry buckets. The song normally does that without any TLK stuff coming to mind anyway and it worked last night. Felt oddly cleansed after it so I put on 'Let There Be Rock' and then went for a lengthy walk ending up round about Saughton prison of all places at midnight. I suppose I was looking for a big melodramatic experience to 'legitimise' the blowing away of cobwebs and the symbolising of a new start etc. The fact that I ended up outside a prison perhaps didn't have the 'meaning' or subtext I was looking for but then I'm a clumsy/ 'incomplete' kinda dude. I can never achieve the perfect moment, it seems. Maybe that's a true reflection of me so in a funny way it was apt that I should get my metaffers jumbled. Anyway, where am I? I just dont know...natch...ha ha but in real terms I'm in the middle of a stupid ass gentrification project prior to the meeting with A-W tonight. Had a hair cut. Going to fire down to the fatties boutique and purchase some designer tents..using credit of course. Then will even have a shower and a shave. Am trying to stay positive re tonight tho' in all honesty I'm not thinking about it that much at the moment. I dare say I shall keep you informed how it went. What else do the next few days hold? Going to see SM's new band on Sun. Will try desprately not to think about DT for most of the next 3 days. Will probably think a lot re TLK tho' I will try my damndest not to. Fuckin' hell man, I feel jaded today. Maybe I've been 'spiked'? Aye I probably have...

Bear In Mind That I Don't Use Exclamations Anymore/ Bleeker Street

2006-03-07T16:20:00.000-08:00

Things have been fairly settled since yesterday I suppose. Met up with CH last night. Had a guid chat. Went to see 'Manderlay' which I liked a great deal. Not quite on a par wi' 'Dogville' but still visceral/fresh/thought provoking in the truest sense etc etc. Also got quite excited re Bryce Dallas Howard. Felt as if I was being hetero scum. Which I was. Prior to leaving for The Filmhoose I got a call from A-W re our 'date' on Thur. Not sure I want to go. I think she's trying to test my resolve somewhat. She left an enigmatic msg which said 'If you're still up for going on Thursday, phone my mobile number to finalise details' OK..so far I haven't done so. I know I should but I don't think I'm up for the additional mental turmoil getting psyched up for this would give me. I know that whatever I wear, KB my image consultant will be apoplectic. I'll look wrong. I'll act wrong. I'll fuck it up basically. She seems a nice lass but I just don't know if I want to meet her. Maybe if I lost a few stone? Good lord. I accept that I'm being extremely negative re all this. There really isn't enough time to hit you with all the negative shit that I could over this subject. To sum up, naebody's ever fancied me and I feel there's nae point in liking somebody as it'll no be reciprocated. I tend to slip into thoughts along the lines of how it's only stereotypical virill stags who can attract members of the opposite sex. I have seen geeks going out wi' folk. But fat geeks? Bald fat geeks? I don't think so. Not sure this is quite the right time for a 'date' somehow. I'm going to have to decide pretty soon. Not really the 'stand her up' type so I'll tell her if I'm coming yea or nay no matter how difficult it might seem to do so. Fuck...Well today I've felt a wee bit brighter, I think. Met up with mother earlier on. Feel I should tell you about her but I just don't have the energy to properly do so as I'll go on for ever. She's an extremely 'nice' person, one of the best. She also has certain peculiarities, shall we say. I do love her a great deal tho' there have been times when we have had some 'difficulties'. She's not been very well lately either. She has angina and periods of ill health have always affected her mood. She can be quite impossible when she's not feeling well and there were moments of that today. She has an off hand way at times, a situ which still rattles me after 35 years. ..shit I have to cut this off at this point or I WILL go on for pages and pages...anyway...Had quite a pleasant day wi' mother all told. Also purchased some new claes from the fat bastard shop for DT's funeral which is now on Monday. Shit that's going to be a heavy day. Trying not to think about it too much 'til much nearer the time. Sat in Interweb land for a while then drifted into the mode of thinking re the TLK situ/trying not to think about her etc. Been turning over the old 'maybe she thinks this.../maybe she thinks I'm being..' in my head. It's fucking bullshit really...I am determined not to give in on this. Spoke for a while wi' KS at the work. Think TLK had spoken to her. It seems she was aware I was 'upset' but of course hadn't contacted me about it and had also bypassed me and talked to KS re the work stuff I'd tried to phone on Monday about. Man, I am not an arsehole. I've not hassled her or 'pursued' her etc etc. I have not given her a reason to avoid me. I haven't and all this shit for a paranoid bastard like me is fucking killing me. However quite hot on the heels of despair came the following...Later met up wi' JP, ma old work colleague. Had a real good chat with her and I think this helped me to start to get TLK into perspective. It might have come across to the BB House as character assassination of TLK but I think it all just helped me to focus on how daft I've been and why she tends to behave as she does and why I get drawn into it. I honestly think that I turned the corner in the coupla hours I spoke wi' JP. I think I've realised that TLK has managed to break my heart on several occasions..without even going out with me. I have almost literally thought about nobody else for the past year. On the whole knowing her has caused me almost nothing but pain. I don't get anything from her in terms of real support or friendship. I really don't and the times when I've thought that have just been delusions or simply when I've wished so badly that that was the case. I have had enough and I am going to change. Godamnit...felt a surge of strength (it's amazing the surge of strength you get when you bite your own willy...good old pre-overkill Billy Connolly) and phoned A-W (I am absolutely dying to use exclamation marks but I shall not do it). Jeez man, she sounds really lovely. I think I will meet her after all. I may even have a haircut/buy some mair claes etc etc. Crazy...that about sums it all up...

A Level 42 LP

2006-03-07T16:09:00.000-08:00

Desperate searches for meaning. It gets easier when you accept there is no grand scheme of things. All we have is our own sense of responsibility to others and to ourselves to be decent, to be good, to be kind. Needing to be with someone and then finding this impossible is genuine hell. What I find worse is having this and then being ignored or having to sit and listen to someone else's conversation. It's better to have your own space to feel isolated in. This all sounds like Buzz Lightyear. All I'm left with are late night programmes which feature footage of otters. My father had a punt on 'Ottery News' in The National. The bosom of the family. Strangulated hernias. Dropped boxes of Milk Tray on Xmas Day. Pose with the Cracker so we can take a picture of you in your element. 'Let's try to fill the endless night'. The singer said 'send in the troops'. I asked the multi-instrumentalist why he'd picked Turbonegro. I knew it was his doing. Hi-jinks on the road. Xmas insanity. You are always right. You can't be argued with. You don't like being categorised. You dislike folk thinking about you. Of course there's no way they could ever get it right. Way back in '86. A spell of 'detention'- share a room with chunky boys with flat tops who play Sly Fox on a loop. Hang out with hyper misfits who wake you up with the sounds of 'I've Never Met A Nice South African'. I would have preferred 'We Hate You White South African Bastards'. A theraputic week. What you need is your mood lifted by Gene Wilder movies or whirlpool baths. Why are you in here? I have a social problem. Why are you in here? I'm intae the drugs and that. In later years I met you again. You really were wacked out on 'ludes. Out of your mind in Ladybank. I can't even make it to the 'David Sands'. How I wished I had daubed creative graffiti on the side of Pleasureland. Instead I saw plenty of teenage riots from the outside. Skinny dipping in the loch. I did hear about it. I heard about the poisonous algae too. Afterwards. Hang out outside the chippy. I ken the reels. See Davie Powrie walking past wi' his funny ears and his England shirt. He's in the middle of drinking himself to death. I knew of a dog called Mojo. Fuck yer/Super Mo. Was he found 'riding women in old caravans' as well? A Mojo lookalike hit me in the baws wi' a cricket bat. He was called 'Manning'. He was a 'poseur'. He liked Prefab Sprout a great deal. Now he works in 'financial services'. The days run away. I hate stories about 'teenage love'. It's not what I knew. Teen hell. A culture of bullying. Mental and physical cruelty. I intend to drown tonight. I can't take it anymore. I still can't.

Soon It Will be Over

2006-03-07T01:56:00.000-08:00

The day you died. I 'couldn't handle it'. I got smashed. I got annoyed at her. I was alone in the world. What do you do when you need to be next to someone, to talk to someone? You didn't know either. I came home and barfed into a black bin bag. Then I did it again. How did you cope for all those years? I'll never know.

FOR DT

My Mum Had 'Desiderata' On Her Wall

2006-03-06T15:15:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I am. I know that I saw The Presence and you saw The Sun And The Moon. I know that I've never met Martin 'Fiddly' Bell. I don't know how I tick. I don't know if I'm liked. I don't know how long I'll last. I know I don't leave an impression. I know I'm not exciting. I know that by any standards I have 'a big gut'. I know I'll never wake up next to anyone. I know I can't make the grade. I know that many people have said to me 'I want to help you Roland'. I know I'm not conventional enough. I know I'm not unconventional enough. I know I don't say 'waver' instead of 'wafer' tho' I wish I did. I know that I frequented 'The Dutch Mill' once before it burned down for the second time. I know that I saw Dennis lying in his coffin in Cardenden. I know that I've 'been in love' just the once. I know that I've never been loved. I know that my gran nearly set her house on fire. I know that my uncle broke my dad's jaw in 1986. I know that I was 'up by' in 1986. I know that I went mad in 2002. I know that I have a sense of fairness. I know you don't think much of me. I know I don't dress in a certain way. I know that causes me a lot of problems. I don't know if I will live past 40. I don't know how I'll cope. I know I won't die 'on the job'. I know I'll never appreciate Mogwai. I know I won't sire any 'bastards'. I know I won't be a spunk. I know that I'll flap around a lot. I know that I'll waste too much time. I know I'll get it wrong. I know I won't make 'a difference'. I know that 'everything I learned has been burned'. I know that I can remember a lot of things. I also know that I'll never do anything about them.