| Damaged Goods |
[Nov. 17th, 2009|02:59 pm] |
I'm single again.
I'm not really certain what happened and I am still reeling a little.
Why is it that when matters of great emotional significance occur, we employ cliches to discuss the situation. Does all language break down, so that all we are left with are hollow-sounding platitudes?
It's not you, it's me.
We want different things.
I wasn't ready for a relationship.
Words were no consolation, and it was with real grief that I left her yesterday. She took me into her room and we lay down on her bed. She had complained of a headache and I asked her if she was crying but she just said it was a migraine. Her eyes were wet. Nothing wrong with my eyes then. I didn't push it. We sat on the sofa for a while, I was reading, she was lying silently against me, her head against my chest. She got up and pulled me behind her, then asked me to close the door behind me. I took off my shoes and we lay together under her duvet and after a while she said;
"I am not happy. With us."
"oh"
"I haven't been for a little while."
"oh. Do... do you want to break up?"
"I... don't know"
Then she began to cry. Which I took to mean "yes". And then she started, empty words to describe deep emotions. I could feel the ground shift beneath me, nowhere I tried to stand was solid earth. I began to sink. All I could hear was;
It is you.
I don't know what I want, but I don't want you.
I wasn't ready for a relationship, with you.
I said as much, but she denied it. There was a tiny part of me that wanted to become angry, to yell and scream and shout. Maybe I might have kept her if I had fought even slightly, shown her my teeth. An even louder part of me said "no, it's too late. She's made up her own mind."
We still lay on the bed, I curled up against her and where I had been calm a moment ago, I suddenly felt another well of emotion. Loss. Grief.
"I don't want to lose you"
I sobbed until my face was red and it was hard to breathe. Snot and tears ran down my face and I had to roll over to find the tissues in my bag and blow my nose. She held me and said nothing. I turned to face her and told her that she needs to light a fire under her arse if she wants to finish her A levels with good enough grades to land a place in the University she wants to go to. I said this through gritted teeth, while I wiped away the tears that ran down my face.
"no matter what happens"
"what do you mean no matter what happens?"
"between us"
"oh"
I got up and put my shoes on, she told me I couldn't go, and tried to pull me back onto the bed to hug me some more, but I resisted until she stopped trying. She fell back onto the bed and lay there while I collected my bag and coat. I picked up my keys and wallet from where I had left them on the table and walked out of the bedroom. As I turned into the hallway I heard her say,
"I know this sounds stupid now, but do you think, maybe later, we can be friends again?"
You know that moment when your heart stops, and you know that all hope is dead? Well, if you've never experienced that feeling I envy you, but I am sure that anyone who has experienced the full range of human emotions will know or at least vaguelly remember this sensation. My voice quavered as I replied, I was resolute and did not want to start to cry again.
"I really don't know if that's possible"
Somewhere deep inside I know I smirked, and then crushed that smug little shit with both feet for taking even the smallest shred of petty revenge on a woman I love with all of my heart.
I feel that the way I am presenting these events to you might seem emotionless, autistic perhaps. I assure you that I am shedding tears as I write this. There is no pride in these artless words.
There was some more crying. I got as far as the bathroom and blew my nose again. Tami trailed behind me, pausing to hug me every so often. She placed her head on my shoulder and squeezed me tight. Finally we got to the door and I played with the light switch in the corridor, suddenly afraid that if I left I would never come back. Probably an accurate supposition.
She hugged me again, I held her tightly on the doorstep. The light in the corridor flicked out, we stood together in the darkness and kissed twice on the lips, quick kisses, emotional, but not passionate. Reluctantly I turned my back and walked down the steps into darkness. The door closed behind me. |
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| I've just... |
[Oct. 1st, 2009|07:31 pm] |
Shaved my belly button.
Not my whole tummy, or my chest, or any other part of my body. Just the belly button, well, the area around it at least. I have what they call an "inny", and for the last week there has been something going on that is neither Kosher nor Cricket. I'd been feeling a sort of pulling sensation around my belly button for a few days and at first I thought I'd perhaps gained a little weight and that my belt was too tight, and had begun to dig into my tummy when I sat down. Not so! At my girlfriend's last Sunday morning I woke up and noticed the cavity of my navel was filled with a black gooey substance which on further investigation turned out to be foul smelling congealed blood.
This, my dear Watson, is not good.
No, it is not fucking good at all.
So obviously I went to the doctor to have it checked out.
No, no I didn't.
You really don't know me well Lj, do you now?
A day passed spent in the company of the GF, her 10 year old cousin Ben, and two very large Golden Retrievers who need almost constant walking. I think it may be from one of the dogs that I contracted a horrible nasty gastro intestinal thing that turned my guts to water and caused me to shit and vomit uncontrollably on Monday night. (Please note: I am not blaming the dogs. They are perfectly fine and lovely animals and only as hygienic as dogs need to be. I blame myself, for my inadequate handling of them, and for sticking whichever handful of food into my mouth after Max had slobbered on my fingers thinking "hey, it won't kill me, right?" Right.)
Well, you asked.
Here I am Lj, three days later, sitting here with a bloated, gassy intestine, waiting for the cramps that will signal the urge to run, not walk, to the bathroom, where I will sit upon the lavatory for the sixth time today. When my stomach settles, I am going to buy a tub of ice cream and shove it up my fucking arse hole. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2009|12:27 pm] |
Hi LJ,
it's been a while.
It's not that I haven't had anything to write, or maybe it is. I could have made the time to sit down and bash out an update, but frankly I haven't even been looking at you much lately. I have a new love now, I know, those link aggregators, they're all sluts, they can't give me the same sense of warmth and love I used to get from you. But there's the rub, "used to get from you". For a while now I have felt like we are drifting apart, and perhaps there is some truth in that. Maybe we just need some space and I will be back posting my thoughts and feelings with the same old regularity, but we both know that promises are made to be broken, and I would rather not make any promise I cannot keep.
So, here I am for now. |
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| What comes out of my inner child, babbling, burbling |
[Jul. 3rd, 2009|11:19 am] |
This is your wake up call
We control the horizontal
We control the vertical
The time is now
Captain Scarlet is Dead.
We want information.
Who are you?
The new Number Two.
What do you want?
You won't get it.
By Hook or by Crook we will.
We are the diddy men. We control the new model army.
Poor, poor Captain Black. The Mysterons own him, body and soul.
Let us die,
Let us sink down into the dark quiet,
Let it smother us,
I was a little light.
I was a little light. |
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| I hope |
[Jun. 18th, 2009|11:17 pm] |
That you pardon the candidness, candidity, candida?
I can honestly say that I have not felt as happy about being with someone. Sure, she is a lot younger than I am, and likes to make jokes about that fact to my detriment, but she is at least as mature as I am. She can follow me into my crazy place, and that is quite important I think.
Today we were out with some friends and Joe or Gawain mentioned the problem with giant rats under Valletta (there is a whole sub level to the capital city which is a badly kept secret) and she came up with the solution. 3-5 year old children, fed a diet of red bull and given knives and hammers. And today she swore at her brother. She told him to fuck off and eat his own shit (in maltese). These may be strange things to be proud of, but they made my heart glow.
Yesterday she called me up,
"I... didn't want to tell you via text message"
"What's up?"
"I... I just wanted you to know"
"What?"
"I think I am falling in love with you."
This is a good thing to know. |
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| Ah |
[Jun. 7th, 2009|07:07 am] |
Woken up at 6am by the phone, lying in girlfriend's arms, my face buried in her sweet smelling hair, arms and legs tangled.
A feeling of great comfort, love, belonging. Joy. Snatched away a second later by the voice on the other end of the phone.
Nannu died this morning at 5am, they had just got back from the hospital.
Ah.
I really felt for Tami, waking up with me to that news. I wondered what I would have done or said had it been her grandfather who passed away. Obviously she felt uncomfortable, so I let her slip out of the door. I went to wake up mum to tell her the news. |
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| More about bags |
[Jun. 5th, 2009|03:14 pm] |
Next time someone asks you, after you have paid for your shopping, if you would like a bag, spare a thought for them. Speaking as someone who says the same phrase "would you like a bag?" dozens of times every single day, I have noticed that there are a number of reactions to this question.
1. Mild Disbelief: A bag? Me? Perish the thought. I LIKE to hold things. It is what my hands are for.
2. Annoyance: Get away from me you bag dispensing FREAK
3. Delight: Why yes, thank you for your thoughfulness!
4. Wariness: A bag? I might want one. Who is asking?
5. Way too excited: I would LOVE a bag.
6. Confusion: WHAT? A BAG? WHY?
7. Eco-guilt: I forgot to bring my own bag from home, therefore I would like to use one of your bags, but only if it is free and you should know that I promise Mother Earth to dispose of this bag in a responsibile manner
8. Hostility: they say nothing, they just glower and walk out. I think this is a form of number 6, only exhibited by more paranoid customers. |
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| To a Special Teacher |
[Jun. 3rd, 2009|03:11 pm] |
"Do you have a book, hekk, called To a Special Teacher" she asked, holding her hands up to display the approximate size and shape of said book.
"No," I replied, after performing a search to that effect, while knowing in my heart of hearts that once again a person has confused books with greetings cards. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 26th, 2009|12:31 pm] |
This description from a programme about Henry VIII made me do a bit of a chuckle;
"With the help of writers, historians, musicologists, film buffs and Alan Bennett, Ian sets out to analyse six images of Henry VIII"
With the help of... and Alan Bennett, and his super power of historical regression. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 20th, 2009|11:45 pm] |
"Hey Kris, have you ever thought of getting contact lenses?"
"Yeah. Contacts are a pain in the cock"
"You... you might be putting them in wrong." |
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| Retail Therapy |
[May. 18th, 2009|06:48 pm] |
Customer: I'd like a thriller, do you have any good thrillers.
Me: We have a few, I am sure. How about Da Vinci Code, have you read that?
Customer: Yes. But I want something not as hard.
Me: Not as hard....
Customer: Yes. You know, not as difficult
Me: Not as difficult.... as the da vinci code? |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 8th, 2009|12:55 pm] |
Went to see Wolverine last night.
Here is my review:
X-Men Origins: Wolverine.
HAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHA
seriously.
It was very bad. Bad photography. Bad CGI. Cliched use of music. Terrible dialogue. It was just bad. The only good thing about the film was the fact that it wasn't so bad I fell asleep, and the people I went to see it with, who all enjoyed the badness as much as I did. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 6th, 2009|10:40 am] |
An man in his 60s came into the shop to buy a sticker book for his young grand daughter. He asked me so many questions and looked at me with so much distrust I had to check whether I was trying to sell him a porno sticker book or something. No, just Barbie, which in some ways is so much worse.
"How do you cut them"
"You don't need to cut anything"
"But is it good for a five years girl?"
"Yes. It should be fine"
"But where does she put them"
"She can put them wherever she likes, but there are spaces in the book for all of the stickers."
"No there isn't what about this sticker"
"Look, sticker here, and on this page there is a space for the sticker. They are all there I assure you."
I mean, I know what with the fast pace of modern life it's easy to get left behind by the advance of technology but you'd think he'd have learnt how a fucking sticker works. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 25th, 2009|10:37 am] |
Since last November or so I have been involved with this group of young writers and we've got ourselves a webzine. The aim was to put out one issue every month and so far we've managed to fail to do that, having made four issues in six months, but we are getting into shape.
The idea was to make a webzine for genre fiction, but rather than catering to just one genre we went for all of them. Hence the name, something truly terrible and as pretentiously unpretentious as we could make it: Schlock.
You can find it here. There are some pretty funky things there already and hopefully there will be more up soon. This month's theme was Steampunk, and this dovetailed with someone else's suggestion that we get ourselves some contributor pictures done.
I bottled out straight away, I hate having my picture taken and in costume? But one of the writers came to the shop and guilted me into coming along, at first to provide moral support, but fuck it, I looked for and found a costume. So I went as a secret society wizardy chap. I am the fat Gandalf.
( images under the cut ) |
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| Loose bundle of ideas about nothing in particular. |
[Apr. 19th, 2009|10:32 am] |
Recently a friend (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) wrong1 ) pointed my attention to this, which set me thinking. There are too many people, even if it's just a personal observation based on the queues outside the Post Office at 8am on a monday morning, and I am all for a campaign to teach people to be more sensible about where they sow their sticky oats and how often. Something along the lines of posters outside of pubs with the slogan "Oh, mind how you go", and a picture of a condom. Or, "Take off the beer goggles before you go home" and a picture of a man and a woman with dog heads going at it up against a bin. I'm going to do my bit too by remaining a confirmed bachelor and never having children. Although the chance would be a fine thing.
Then I thought to myself, "hang on, the Catholic church would have something to say about this" because it's true, they usually do have something to say about most things. Whereas most of us consider the application of pre or post coital contraceptives to be a sensible precaution (or postcaution, if you will) should you not want to conceive, the Vatican has other idea. The Pope has come under fire recently for suggesting that condoms cause AIDS, even with Vatican spokespersons crying shrilly after the fact that the Pope's words have been misinterpreted or taken out of context this is a fairly contentious idea. No, if you're Catholic the preferred method of birth control is to abstain, or use one of the calendar methods.
"Are we gonna use that there rhythm method right? Cos I carn't listen to music when I is doin it."
I was going to segue into a rant about Christian Science, but I don't really know much about Christian Science and my link (from birth control methods with the Papal stamp to a collection of pseudo-new age beliefs posing as christian doctrine) was tenuous at best.
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| Sar Chasm |
[Apr. 14th, 2009|01:12 pm] |
I seem to be unable, today, to keep out of my voice a hint of cynicism, out of my eyes the smallest degree of weariness. I am not an expert eye-roller like some of my colleagues and friends and friends of friends.
Pause, for a moment of consumer idiocy.
"Do you have DVDs?"
"This is a bookshop"
"Do you have DVDs?"
"No."
Maybe in other countries, bookshops sell DVDs. We do, actually, have some books with DVDs attached. That conversation was not exactly representative of the entire conversation. Beware the media, they will always manipulate data to make themselves appear in a good light.
I have so far today sighed deeply, rolled my eyes, been told I have an agressive tone of voice, and stared down at people who have asked me stupid questions. There have been a large number of them today and for some reason, my ability to cope is at an all time low. I can practically hear the voice in my head telling me to just cut my wrists now. |
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| Don't you just love it when... |
[Apr. 8th, 2009|11:27 am] |
You get a customer who comes in and says:
"Do you have Loranne and Simon's book?"
"Um," At this point I am still taken aback by the idea that I might know all of the authors by their first names, "oh, Frederick wrote a good book, Forsyth you know?"
"Yes. They're abroad at the moment but they just wrote a new book. Two of them now."
"Right. Do you know the titles?"
"No, Loranne and Simon, you know. They wrote them in English."
That's when I remembered Loranne and Simon. As it turns out I do know them, that's how small Malta is. Well, I have met them a sum total of twice. Simon was nice, I didn't speak with Loranne much.
"Is this Loranne Vella and Simon Bartolo?"
"Yes" He looked at me as though this had been evident from the beginning.
I had been desperately searching the system since he had first mentioned the names, for some reason the word Triq (Maltese for street) popped into my head. As soon as I realised who I was looking for I remembered the book was called Sqaq L-Infern (Sqaq is Maltese for alley way, or cul-de-sac, I've seen it applied to both) so I wasn't too far off.
Then the man chose some books and I poked him in the eye with my pen and stamped on his neck until he was dead. The end. |
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| Self Pity |
[Apr. 7th, 2009|03:25 pm] |
Lately I've become more of a hermit. I rarely go out and generally only see friends when they make the effort to come to me. I know that this is bad, and that there are people who would be glad to see me if and when I chose to leave the house, but I choose to ignore that. It's getting easier to justify staying at home over doing anything at all.
I've nominally given up roleplaying aswell. This is made easier by the fact that I don't go anywhere anymore. I never really felt welcome when I was. I know that's a problem of my perception rather than actual reality.
The problem with quitting gaming is that I don't stop getting ideas for games. If anything they have been coming thick and fast, even a few ideas I had forgotten about popped back into my head a few weeks ago. Anyway, I'm hoping the extra time means I will have more of a chance to write something. The only thing that is missing is the discipline to do so. |
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| vague ranting |
[Apr. 2nd, 2009|09:50 am] |
whenever I skip breakfast of a morning I buy a cereal bar to tide me over til lunch time. The least nauseating of these, I find, is the Special K bar which I may have mentioned before. The fact that I mention it all, let alone twice, is a sad testament to my lack of interesting things to say about anything. I should be commenting on the news or politics or saying something pithy and cutting about religion. Dammit, breakfast bars, you bring me down.
Lately I have noticed the information on the packaging has changed. Once upon a time (if I have mentioned this at all, and believe me I am far too lazy to bother going to look) the ingredients betrayed the fact that even though in the large print text the bar is a "Wheat Bar with Cranberry Pieces" the ingredients showed that these pieces were in fact dried strawberry pieces with cranberry flavourings. Oh the wonders of science. Now we have actual cranberry pieces with "added pineapple juice" and pineapple flavourings. Odd?
Yesterday I noticed the words "NOW WITH 50% EXTRA FRUIT" and before I unwrapped it and stuck it in my over-analytic gob I thought "I bet there are roughly the same number of fruit bits, they're just bigger." And they were!
That's enough wank for today. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 25th, 2009|03:47 pm] |
It's not a bin.
It's a fucking umbrella stand. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 21st, 2009|10:42 am] |
So lately I've been getting worried about my dog. His reactions to me are becoming more and more bizarre. He paws and whines at my stomach and tries to nip at the flab of my gut where it hangs over my belt. He gets really worked up and I get mad, and this is frustrating for both of us.
So I read that dogs can smell cancer and I got more worried. What if he was smelling cancer on me? So I went to the doctor and explained my fears, and after laughing for a bit, he did some blood tests and they were negative, phew. But my dog was still behaving erratically. In the end I decided to get the dog checked, and it turns out he has cancer of the nose.
He's fine now.
Disclaimer:
I have not now, or ever owned a dog. This was all an elaborate set up for a "my dog's got no nose" style joke. I am sorry if diagnosing an imaginary dog with nose cancer is upsetting. Please return to your normal lives. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 19th, 2009|04:18 pm] |
"Kiss me, Hardy"
"Yes, yes of course Lord Admiral,"
"And Hardy..."
"Yes Lord Admiral?"
"Do you think you could... slip a finger up aswell?" |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 12th, 2009|06:54 pm] |
L'Oreal Paris and Maybelline New York have undergone a corporate brand merger.
From now on their logo will be:
"Maybe she's worth it" |
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| Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes |
[Mar. 9th, 2009|12:12 pm] |
Watching the Watchmen. How many poor film reviews have started with those words since last friday? Quite a few I will bet, and I'm not going to add any more to them but I will say a few things.
( Spoilers, maybe? )
Why do I keep wanting to write /lj-cunt? |
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| Just dropped in, |
[Mar. 5th, 2009|12:06 pm] |
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To see what condition my condition was in. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 24th, 2009|10:50 am] |
It is time once again for badly translated nursery rhymes! Today we will look at an example from Hungary of "It's Raining, It's Pouring".
The sky outside is grey.
The water comes down from the heavens in great torrents.
It is time now for us to discuss the sleeping habits of old men.
Oh no! A Calamity.
The old man suffers from concussion and is probably dead now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 9th, 2009|10:54 am] |
"Do you have teach yourself Spanish?"
"Yes, we have a section upstairs."
"Are they english to spanish or spanish to english?"
"Uh, are you after a dictionary, they are two way."
"No, I want teach yourself Spanish. It's better if it is English to Spanish and Spanish to English."
My head hurts. |
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