September review

The end of another week, and October as well. My original blog critic, my mother, no longer sees any of it as she knows more or less what's happening without me needing to show her again. And depressing it may be but that's just as much a valid area of life as any other, and far better for a reader than the writer. I've had most phases in my life, and the fact that my original imagined immunity to failure proved a fiction meant I could no longer go through life thinking I was somehow fireproof. We all experience the same potentials, and what can happen to you can happen to me and everyone else. You can't avoid trouble by being careful, you just delay it. Most people under buses, in plane crashes and major disasters aren't there from being careless, life can just catch you out at any time and you may as well accept it and not believe that any effort will do more than postpone the time whatever bullet has your name on it will hit. Not negative, realistic.

So, as one month ends another begins with a depressing observation, but hopefully out of the way now and move on to other things. It was not a memorable week at all, jobs got done and I barely saw anyone outside the family and the neighbour I was helping out. I joined a forum on enlightenment, and actually found they could offer some practical advice that helped. I can see myself responding to it while I do things, and maybe there is more in it than appeared after close inspection. The major alien revelation promised on Talk Sport was as I expected, a rehash of stuff we can all read in UFO books by a politically jaded radical who jumped on a bandwagon with nothing more than his earlier status to offer. The community doesn't need big names to join it, only people prepared to blow the whistle on information they were told to conceal on pain of death (for that is the penalty in the US, at least). Paul Hellyer had a big build up for the reason I expected, they had nothing to fear by his announcements so he could cry them from the rooftops with no fear he'd ever be stopped. So all that's left is Major Ed Dames who has his planned meeting with aliens planned for the new year. Another day in the life of a psychic researcher who can do more himself than nearly every subject he investigates. Wonderful...

Last month is best out of the way and forgotten. A few broken things were fixed, and I was overlooked by more women, though on the gym front I lost an inch off my waist and somehow increased the weights on the pectoral flies by 100%. It's a shame the gym/community centre is so far away or I'd be there twice as often, there are a bunch of nice people there but not local to me here. One woman struck me the day she arrived as special, though her age prevented any interest in me on her part, and she turned out to be taken but is still very nice to talk to. The amazing thing is she'd never work out how much I like her, though my eyes light up every time I see her there. There's also a blonde woman who has to be one of the best looking I've ever seen, but zero personality or class, and also less than half my age. I couldn't get two words out of her if I did any less than whip my cock out, then it would only be 'help, call the police!'. Then there's the one I tried to chat up after she actually talked to me once, and failed dismally. I then saw her leaving once with someone who looked exactly like a paroled murderer, which may have explained my lack of success. Then of course there was the tattooed contortionist, who did ballet and yoga type exercises that distracted me from my weights for a few months, with the male model waiting on the chair outside the door every time she came, someone pointed out for me.

The fact is, besides the expensive gyms for posers and cheap ones for yobs with no changing rooms, there are very few community centres in London to join where you might just meet people, and I'm lucky enough to have found one of the best ones despite the fact it's where my father lives, not me. I'd never find anywhere with a better social activity except for some reason virtually none of the gym members ever drink in the cafe/bar afterwards except me, which is the only reason I used to go there in the past. We have had a few parties, and to see the staff in one bunch in their twenties, a group of people who came together on their own table, and all the single men in a little group by the bar was tragic. On the first one I actually used something to my advantage, having bought the biggest plate of chips I'd ever seen, and offering them to three women sitting opposite me. It allowed me to chat with them for the rest of the evening, though that's all that took place. But I think people could use these rare areas of civilisation far better than they do, when I consider how many people on my regular forum have fallen for others on different continents, when at the place I go we're all under one roof and could easily pair up most of the singles there in a few weeks if everyone stayed around after the gym or classes, but they run off the minute they finish, though some are also single and don't exploit the possibilities on their doorstep. And I'm not aware of anywhere similar anywhere near me so I haven't missed any other chances.

Finally, I almost considered giving this blog up after the impression was my few readers had gone. I know compared to most I produce far more than the enthusiasts who last two posts 'first post' and 'what I did today', to leave a permanent entry on the profile search and nothing produced since 2004. I don't believe depression is catching, which would explain the exodus, and it's not I hope a constant theme, just a current current, to play with both the word's meanings. And to be honest, one thing that seems to help when I'm feeling down is to read someone else in a similar position. It feels less isolated and more normal. I just heard of a forum purely for people with depression and no doubt I'll end up looking in, and if not totally mind-numbing probably joining in and winding everyone up with my banal wanderings. The trouble with writing as opposed to talking is there's no one to make you stop, which is how I keep going here and elsewhere, but would never go on in a conversation. There's no need to stop if the thoughts flow. And to end that train of thought, I had to convert the first and only book I wrote to a booklet as everything I wanted to write only took up 28 pages. Boy, have I changed since then, so at least I could have a crack at the minimum 200 pages publishers want now, I seem to have taken on the ability to run on if nothing else.