Thursday, August 31, 2006

Personal therapy page

In the space between work and tv there is one other little job to do (which may be done) but while there's a coffee which is waiting to be finished I came here.
In between one non event and anticlimax, really all there is is a day followed by another one. Yesterday was good as I actually did what I needed to and could do. Tiny stuff in practice or comparison but very important, like saving a life. If someone needs a very simple procedure carried out to save their life it's not the effort involved that matters but the effect of the task. So despite seeming simple yesterday's jobs were essential. Understand now?

Well, that was yesterday, due to a radio programme about end times I was obliged to stay up till 4am in case I missed something. Not clever but at least next time bedtime approaches I won't need to say I have to stay up to listen to something on the radio and go to bed already. Right now there's nothing. Apart from some old letters that need picking out and removing I am drifting. The photos will be taken sooner or later, but till then socially has ground to a halt, any meetings have taken place and even with any of my limitations still find ways to see people one way or another.
It is a bit like a dog who's buried a bone in the garden and can't find it, it almost feels as if there's something I should know but can't work out what or where it is. As if there's a point to all this and instead of having had not enough sleep and little to do something major is sitting somewhere waiting to be found. Or wishful thinking. If this problem has a solution just talking round it on my own can take me closer to it, but there isn't even the original situation of delay, where something you know is coming is a long way off, as there isn't anything there either. No plans or projects left besides one cryptic message which may or may not have been responded to but I have not been made aware of it.

Mystery then today. The mystery being 'is there any more than I can see?'. Not usually, the only items being those opinions women (mainly) have already formed about me but haven't let me know. I have conversations where others say they probably do like me despite saying little or nothing and me saying they are just humoring me, and neither of us have the faintest idea of the truth. Except until you have something you have nothing, and why women generally refuse to reveal anything before the man does (at least in this sodding country) in one case even when I have I'm still none the wiser. Patience implies if you sit back and wait something eventually happens, but I've even lost that as in my cases it may well never happen. The only probable is I'll get an answer, but if it's no then I've waited the equivalent of all summer for my exam results only to find I've failed them all (memory, 1980). I never want to go through that again either. And unlike colleges women don't give you a date for your results.
Well, here goes a page of personal therapy, not really for entertainment and probably best deleted, but if I do that I won't have written anything better so will have missed a page. And maybe someone else may be able to relate to this and work something out for themself. Or get bored silly, I can't tell.

Good days, bad days

Good days bad days, good news, bad news. I just react too much too them all.

Anyway, I got distict feeling today (as if controlled) everything was speeding up and happening at once to come to a conclusion where all my fears were faced and imaginings were tested, as that is exactly what has happened in the last year or so.
If that was the case, there would be few situations that would be unfamiliar and unable to deal with as they've all come at once plus I could see what would happen in reality rather than my fears.

Today (only in comparison) was the antidote to yesterday, I did all my little jobs easily and cut the front lawn. There were good programmes on TV and the radio so despite seeing no one besides one appointment for work, did spend some time with the cat from opposite who came to visit as I hear his bell when he's outside. There he is at the top. Otherwise I just carry on and think less and less ahead as nothing can be seen there from here and no point trying to.
So there's little else to report. Women are like flies in amber. I see them but they aren't going anywhere. Frozen in time apparently, knowing I want them and neither coming closer or leaving altogether, just freezing time so nothing is known. A slight bit better than my TV debacle though I was told after going on mobile phones (and the internet presumably if you pay for it) they may actually put it on TV if anyone wants it. Of course they have to maximise their profits from all programmes and showing them to chavs in shopping centres is not good marketing in my view.

So, unlike me, little else to report. I have a little list of more pictures to take, but not sure when I'll get there though I want to do it before the clocks go back. Maybe I'll just do what someone I heard about did with women, asking them all for sex each night out until one said yes, as they almost always did sooner or later. Only I'd ask them to marry me. It stands more chance than what I've been doing till now and will stand by any decision made.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Killing time

Wow, today was possibly a record waste of time. It certainly felt like it. Rain forced any chance of outside jobs (fairly important) to wait, and besides the cleaner keeping me hidden in the office there was bugger all else to do.
OK, I got some 'networking' done on the computer which included some important business but I feel cheated by the day and embarrassed I may do almost the same tomorrow and Thursday. Having what I can only describe as chronic fatigue as a) it's lasted on and off for a year and b) I get so tired I can't do anything also limits my scope on bad days. It literally comes and goes like clouds, it can arrive early and lift or just arrive suddenly and hang around for an hour or more. It's the second time and now it's not caused by stress, it's because I can't stop everything so won't recover.

So all the jobs I used to do without thinking and some I enjoyed are now rationed to one at a time and postponed till I can do them. No milk is the current result but there are other leftovers that also need tying up in the next few days or there'll be trouble. Now I literally understand why people live in institutions as all that crap is done for them. True they live in a prison or somewhere that resembles one and have no freedom but no responsibilities either. What a prospect. My grandma was forced to have a carer for a few weeks the first time she came out of hospital at 95 and she hated it and preferred to make herself do everything. I'd give a kidney to have a carer at 46. Her carer was sent upstairs and apart from cooking some meals was left to her own devices as my grandma refused to let her do anything. I used to go and talk to her and get shouted at to leave her alone (as she was 'only the staff'...). I had my own intentions but her love of Jesus was greater than for me or any other man so in the end leaving her alone was the better route.

Tomorrow looms while today is almost over and before anyone tells me off for pissing a day and then a whole week away I'll tell myself off for it. I can just imagine a Nobel prize winner a year later taking some time off and feeling guilty for wasting a day. It's OK for some but not for others possibly. Ordinary people are expected to perform at a level which eccentrics can't always stick to. I managed a routine for many years before one way or another my mind and body protested and basically worked to rule. Anything I previously had to do whether I liked it or not became the equivalent of planning a trek across the Sahara. The limited energy has to be allocated in parcels to the most important areas, other work delegated to family (after spending about 8 years helping them as it happens) and others just left to gather dust. Then peppered with bad news and wasted efforts there are few prizes to make the time I have go well.

Technically I only care what one person sees in me, my potential woman. As long as she is happy with me as I am, not another person can affect my life with their negative opinions. Just one person needs to be impressed by my assets and accept my faults and weaknesses (as I would for them). Who is that person? Neither of the women on my 'just alive' list knows my problems. Neither have reached the point where I needed to mention it but I don't plan that in advance. Once they know they can decide if it'll put them off or not, it's not up to me. It's not like I've got a criminal record, sex change, third nipple (for any friends fans), tiny winkle, false leg, leprosy, aids, double incontinence or schizophrenia. And I've met people with one or more of these (clearly the winkle is not relevant here) and many wouldn't put me off anyhow. People are strong in some ways and week in others and I found smoking far more unpleasant than most of those afflictions plus it wasn't an affliction but a choice. Still doesn't put me off but is bloody revolting.

With the schizophrenic it was often like going out in a group as I talked to the voices as well. Added another dimension if nothing else...

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Mucus, the final product

Rain, a blessing and a pest. Any chance I was getting a few jobs done outside today was rained off but as I didn't really feel like it I had the perfect excuse. Instead youtube appeared to have jammed my last video as it was still processing the next day, and I had to fiddle to try another upload, which I got wrong and am waiting to see if it's accepted this time. High drama no less.

I have reached a point where almost every one of my plans has died like a plant in a drought. Plan two has reached the crucial point of testing and virtually out of my hands now. Plan one is alive but one of the longest waits I've had for a possible girlfriend in history. If you put together two people with different hangups each suffers and nothing seems possible between the two. She won't be touched indeed- all I need now is a fucking mermaid and the whole scene will be complete.

So having read the latest advice live in the day, I am doing what I can to. If I think of going out it rains and I have two messengers up as once you talk to one person unless you go hidden everyone else comes along. An empty house full of people, how ironic. Now I drift into fiction and fantasy.


Imagine, if you will, a princess, or maybe not a princess but a queen. You are a part of the aristocracy and see the queen but are secretly in love with her. You are so far below her despite being about to inherit a lordship, but you still feel totally inadequate for someone at her level. After all, you'd need to be a prince to really expect the queen to see you as any more than part of her extended family. But you can only see her as a woman. The fact she's the queen comes back to you every now and then but you know her as a person, herself, and the fact she may be a queen would vanish into the air should you share a bed together.
Of course it's not impossible for the queen to consort with minor aristocracy. You're not one of the ordinary people, or you'd be unlikely to ever meet her and see her as part of her social group. But fall in love or lust? With a monarch? What would everyone think? Could she see herself with such a relatively lowly person? How do you compare with the other men she knew before who had whole countries at their disposal?

So after time passes what do you do? The feelings don't go away, she is still free and could have a man if they met up to her standards, but how could it be you? In the end you have to make a move. The trouble is how can you get messages to the queen as so many people are around and may listen? She has all her staff, family and visitors constantly coming and going and you are just another one who for all you know are seen no differently. But you hope maybe you are. The look in her eye when she sees you may be different from when she sees others, the way she restrains a hug when you walk towards her, she hugs you in her mind but the arms just can't make the move, as she's the queen, and what would everyone think?

So many fairy stories have a happy ending, they live happily ever after. This has no ending as the queen is confused and little you do seems to be able to repair that confusion. You have tried, many times. With the Prime Minister there you can hardly throw your arms around her neck and give her a big kiss. The whole government and press would find out. Everything you say is possibly picked up by the maid or cook and would make the palace buzz with gossip. So you make do with passing comments and clues that grow with each time they are apparently missed.
Eventually the point comes when the clue has to be the size of a small country. Wrapped up a little in brown paper so you only see a parcel but can clearly see the shape of an elephant inside it. If everyone looks at the parcel they can all see what's inside, but somehow the very person who needs to know may miss the design and just see a mass of paper. And being a clue there's no elephant to unwrap, just a huge elephant shaped package. Short of writing 'This parcel contains an elephant', which of course would tell the world and all the corgis what's there so you needn's have wrapped it at all, what can you do?
So the queen has received the package, and has been looking at it wondering what to do. Maybe it's just an innocent empty box with no more than paper and cardboard. But something tells her it may look a bit like something. Can she see the outline of a trunk or a tusk at the front? Is the whole shape somehow familiar? And if it is an elephant hpw should she reply? Does she need an elephant at the moment? Does she have room for one? She does actually like elephants, but now, and this particular one? She may like elephants, but though the palace is huge and she has room for one, and secretly she'd always liked one, is it really inside or is she now imagining things herself?

Sadly this isn't a fairy story. If it has an ending it hasn't happened yet. The parcel is sitting in the hall being inspected every now and then, but not yet sure both what's inside and whether she wants it if it is, everything has stopped. Of course the gift depends who it is from. She knows it's from you and if it was, could only be a token of how you feel. But you? Send her a present? Why? Of all the people she expected something from maybe the last one she did was you? But this is speculation. She hasn't told you, she may not even have spotted the parcel but had the butler remove it with the rubbish. She gets lots of things sent to her and can't deal with them all personally. So it may not be an ending, and may very well not be a happy one. The queen may even strip you of the lordship for your impertanence so you lose your aristocracy and never see her again. You soon forget you were ever part of the queen's entourage and become part of the masses like everyone else, never mentioning it again except the odd time you're with an old friend late at night, and say, did you know I once knew the queen... Sad ending indeed...

Monday, August 28, 2006

Space, the final frontier

It’s a strange situation here when there’s absolutely nothing left. No plans or achievements, and absolutely nothing left on my imaginary system to look forward to. But having a future system is no different from the news speculating on global warming or a stock market crash. If there’s the slightest chance of predicting the future it’s human nature to imagine we can. No fucking way Jose. British house buying is the best example I know. Until you exchange contracts there’s a big chance it’ll fall through, and the same with every project. Mine have. I haven’t actually failed them all, the first woman intends to return and possibly by the time the Antarctic has melted we’ll have taken it to the next level. She said be patient, and it means I may finally get what I want by the time I’m not a pensioner. I say that as despite reaching whatever pensionable age it is then (a lot more than 65) I didn’t have a proper job for very long so won’t get one. But you get my drift, at that time or thereabouts I may actually get it together and then probably be so old I’ll cark it from the shock. Wait 70 years for a decent seeing to and die happy a day later. Perfect unhappy ending.

But it isn’t all doom and gloom. You can feel happy with no reason, it is I believe our natural state. So as I have no stress right now I’m OK. You can’t be attached to it so it may not last, but right now I am. I’m also reading a book on how to maintain it, so anything may be possible independent of the yawning vacuum of actual successes. Business and pleasure, they all evaporate like gold amassed in a dream on waking up. There’s no substance in anything in the future and if anything good does happen it’s usually just here without warning. Nursing and developing women in particular rarely works. If they don’t show a clear interest after a couple of meetings any tricks or plans won’t create that interest. They are only interested either in your personality or your professional assets and are screwing some half witted male bimbo while using me for intellectual activity.
So with another week ahead and possibly another woman eliminated from enquiries like spitting out a bug that accidentally got in your mouth, I have a list of more photos and a video to take. Besides having exhausted my small list of possibles, one which contained some of the greatest possible life changing assets since my degree, I am still here and back to an average life as not a celebrity and pathologically single. There aren’t any others left behind the supernatural and enlightenment and they are either real or not whatever I do. My system contained a step up to half being famous, which realistically may never come my way now unless I put myself out beyond my current abilities to do so. Even if I could it never got me anywhere before now so may not be possible however much effort I put into it.

Having memories of life as it could be I have that to aim for as a preference, but no practical route. I know by travelling it follows me wherever I go so that’s no answer, and as the gurus know enlightenment only takes place here and now. If you wait like a spider in its web all can come to you one way or another, and running after success usually makes it run even faster. I’ve proved yet again with all the organisation in the world I can’t get fame or a woman. Or much else besides exam passes which I’m glad to say are not part of my world any more. Jobs as well of course. Apply till you’ve got callouses on your fingers from grovelling and if they don’t want you you remain unemployed. After aiming for the middle and getting the bottom of the ladder I continued applying for similar jobs as working anywhere 5 years implies it’s both tolerable and profitable. I applied for hundreds of similar which I could (and have at times) do in my sleep. I have been forcibly made unemployable, at least apparently to allow me to get on with what I’m supposed to be doing and not be bothered with wasting time sorting out someone else’s tangles caused by not wanting to run their business properly. “Call this person to explain why I want more credit” etc., you get the picture. Cynical practices which guarantee all but the best small businesses they are supplied by get into trouble. Anyway, unscrupulous, buying job lots and selling at markups 40 times the cost price, not paying suppliers till the heavies come round and similar is the way most of my bosses run the business and they leave me as the front man to take the flak. Is that something to make you proud as you have a job? Just do anything rather than god forbid be unemployed? I tried for years and was even offered a well paid job on the till and counter of a cafĂ© but it was 30 miles away and I had to decline when I couldn’t stay near enough. 6 years of college, 3 full and 3 part time to sell scones. But if I was happy to do so I would have done it at the time had it been local.

So, back to a desert. No fame, no woman and no plans for either again. It can only stay exactly the same…

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Saturday's excoriae

I survived a week of continual bombardment and am still in one piece. There were a couple of good bits as well and as my health was improved it made quite a difference. Unfortunately I now have nothing here and nothing in the way of TV to look forward to, which was at the time the only thing keeping me sane. Now I accept the reality I just have to live as it is without a prize of fame in the near future to tell me it won't last long as it is. No fame, no woman and no company. And if some people have their way no money either.
Can it all fall apart? Not as long as you've got your health. That should get you through everything whether or not you enjoy it.

I have to break my rule in general and look ahead. Only because there's a chance in a year and twenty years everything will be the same. That would mean no new women (or ones I want anyway), no fame, no extra money and still living here or somewhere similar in a better area writing for pleasure and doing sod all work. Unless my meditation starts to produce results which make me feel good regardless I will no doubt be bored out of my mind most of the time and have a trail of creations piled up around me and on the computer which though an expression of my talents change nothing.

I have had some nice compliments though. Just clues I'm on the right track and keep going. The only caveat is not to let any true success go to my ego. Whatever I can do isn't my doing but a gift and no credit to me. As long as I always apply that rule it won't mess me up. One very long project I have is to select the relevant parts of this blog and put them on a CD and try and get it published. It may never be but at least I'll have some work put away for posterity.

Question, does doing exactly the same things but sharing them make them better? I think so, as who else both knows what I've done alone or can talk to me while I'm doing it? As we spend more time at home as a rule (besides at work which isn't applicable to me) surely having someone there is most important as the ordinary stuff we all do at home is somehow special when shared with someone. Who else ever sees what I've put on the computer or written in my notebooks? Or for that matter ever uses them themselves apart from me? It's no wonder I've turned peculiar, how many years are we meant to take the same situation, gradually becoming worse as people leave and work dries up until it's just me and an empty house? It can't just affect me that way, anyone else would become a bit odd sooner or later, I just don't pretend to hide it. I could be like the British who treat a leg hanging off like a minor inconvenience while running a marathon, or the Jew I am and wear my heart, lungs and liver on my sleeve. At least we don't use alcohol as a treatment, we feel everything but keep our heads clear. One thing I can see today from what I've written is there really is no point. Excoriae. Shed skin. That's all it is, but the new snake seems just like the last one.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Friday's expectoration

Like every day really, when you work as little as I do, but none today. Plenty to do and glad to say none is outside, all here. So far I've made a little start but none are urgent and after yesterday relaxing is the best policy today.
The scope of things to do in an empty house is pretty limited, blogging being one of them which like any other addiction is based on easy availability. If there was a woman available now of course I would save the blogging for later. I'm still and indefinitely back to the present, with nothing left to look forward to following my great false dawn of TV fame. There's a little appearance next year but not such a potential career move.

If you've been following, this week was predicted roughly yet again. Last week was clockwork in its predictability, and when I said there was too little planned this week to go smoothly, boy was I right, with interest. These evil phases (and some not so evil) are very much like unblocking a sewer when everything floods out at once as if saved up. If even one or two would unblock on the good side, rather than all my projects making halting steps forward only to give up in the middle it would be ok, but it seems like I'm being punished somehow for my avoidance of work. If this was the case every long term unemployed would suffer for the error of their ways and of course all karmic consequences are impossible without a controller which is still preferable to not being punished and random. If it's being controlled by god at least there is a god, even if not the sort the religions claim.

But back to this week, it was a lesson in tolerance which I passed simply because I'm here and saying so. I learnt not to take official rules as definite but challenge them (not sure if it works but I hadn't thought of trying till now) and not be totally devastated by dreadful career news. In dreams everything is so flexible you can have nothing one minute and everything the next and feel accordingly. My teachings say we have to rise above the outer ups and downs but only a handful of people at any one time have achieved this, or claimed to. Even rising above a little has to be better though and for once I have. Today is so far totally average and neutral, nothing either way but it's 4pm so room for possible variation, and the first was the end of my blog was eaten as blogger's up the creek. I don't remember what was removed but I'll carry on regardless.

Oh, it took out my interests bit. I said in my funtrivia blog about blogging for therapy and got more response than any other entry here or there. Like Freud discovered just having time to speak about yourself freely is half the job. And I like to watch people's lives. Being a person I find people more interesting than anything else. But what gets lots of views and comments is a mystery. Apart from a few obvious stinkers I never know what will get the huge views and have said the same thing in different places or times and got totally different responses. But as long as there are a few of us who understand each other and like reading what we say I won't be concerned with the lack of mass appeal, but stick in a small select group of fellow moaners. But I pray for the day I won't have something to moan about.

Thursday's excreta

Blimey, I worked a whole 4 hours today, a possible record. Anyway, I feel the effects but proves it can be done, at least once in 5 years... I was pleased to see some nice compliments after a comment-free summer, plus one I'd rather not dwell on. It seems that amongst the lumpenproletariat (yes, I did politics A level) there are a few people who have risen above them and actually understand me. So rather than expect a mass appeal I'll just be happy the few who understand continue to appreciate and the rest are no use unless they were buying tickets first. So I speak to the few now, not the many, and am happy to know it just seems to take a fellow appreciation of the nature of life and that is a rare thing.

I just heard a christian preacher say that the world is not hell (as I said), it's far worse and eternal for all who don't repent their sins to Jesus. What can I say, I have my view of hell and I'll race him there. I win, there already. End of argument. And if not I'll have had enough practice for it here it'll hardly be a surprise, and at least I know however bad it may be, it won't kill me...
So, looking forward to a dream rather than a reality is over. I now officially have almost nothing to look forward to. OK, I hardly ever do, but speaking to 500,000 people on satellite TV is a big thing to look forward to until you don't. Back on the ground with a crash and the world puts up a big middle finger again and makes me swivel on it. And it didn't cut its nails first. Thanks God, maybe it is because I'm not a christian, but the happiest people I know are Buddhists and I go for evidence not scare stories.

No work tomorrow and little else besides some seriously boring business phone calls I hadn't got the time for till Friday. I wish if I didn't actually have a wife I had enough money to have a PA to do all this crap, it's so boring and would be far better done by an assistant of any sort. All my emailing is now over. One reply was great, the others were previews of the hell the preacher warned of earlier. Apparently the Arab who sold me this computer borrowed his copy of Windows from a college. Nowadays Microsoft have found ways of spotting this via spyware and send you a lovely message which lets you know years after the event the guy at the market who's now living on a Costa/Wormwood Scrubs wasn't actually completely kosher. Bloody typical. Discount is not always genuine, but simply sell you something worth a lot less at a price for something far better. Thank goodness the bloody thing still works at all. Next the fuckers will send a trojan that'll freeze the hard disk and besides losing all my data (again) will simply switch to Linux. Anyone who can fuck up my computer as comprehensively as Microsoft can take their business and stick it. The Indian on the phone (for he was in India) tells me the price of XP is now three times the price it was offered to me in 2004. Greedy bastards! That's more than a PC world bargain PC with more speed than this professional version. If he wasn't lying. I'll have to check but I can't believe they charge the same for the OS as they do for the whole hardware. OK, I'll probably end up paying £100 to get Linux installed if they ever decide to disable these versions but at least they won't get a penny of it.

I did another video blog just now, purely as one of the 7 viewers (no, two) said they liked it. Unfortunately I let slip a rude word but hope no one noticed, I don't think they let you there but I think I've heard a few before. Mind you, if only 3 people watch it there isn't much chance of being reported...

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Back yet again

Another one at the end of the day, and probably a relatively early night. It's quite incredible to manage a life at rock bottom of possibilities. I imagined many years before having to live and survive on my own, and though I freely admit not being particularly interested in any job I did have, having so much time to fill with no one else around is a tough call. It would be really nice to meet just one person in my position so we could share our time rather than pass it separately.

Today I started a little journey in the little steps I'm taking back to normal since the chicken pox. One at a time, don't take on too much in one go or I go back to the beginning. I'm learning and have to take it very slowly or not at all. For 2 months my hope was based on an illusion I'd be on near-mainstream TV. As my first went perfectly to schedule I wasn't really expecting this effort to drop off the radar before showing. I'm able to carry on now by looking at today and dropping all cares beyond in the future. It's something I never had so haven't actually lost, and on the tiniest of consolations (Brazil 17 Moldova 1 in the last minute) they showed my programme for the third time on Discovery find this channel with a metal detector and treasure map. Total probable viewers now 150,000 maximum. Sky One, peak time, advertised in all papers, likely audience 500,000. Mid 2007, Discovery Kids, 5.20 pm, advertised in Montreal, viewers in UK, 7? That won't make my name and now I know I can't even rely on being in it. And no, it's not because I don't put enough in I don't get enough out. I nursed my TV career for 5 years before it started. Like most famous people they worked up to it in the shadows for years before they got their break. But the big one was not to be and it's history now.

Meanwhile everyday issues continue, why won't my dishwasher use tablets as you can hardly find the powder anyway and mine just ran out. I have the usual household and financial concerns anyone does, but all within my scope to solve or end up with (even more) water leaking onto the floor and manky carpets. Just another day in suburban London, but none of the 1950s black and white style family life to compensate for the daily drudgery of running a house. I nowadays really worry if that ever happened I'd even notice as I've been down at the bottom for so long would any actual change be felt? Of course all I know that worked was living in my parent's house, and that won't happen again. I know that's the one place I'd be at least relatively content. OK, they both worked for 40 years to pay for it, and I fiddled half my cash by being in the right places at the right times, working just to finish the job. Not deliberately mind you, studying until 31 never allows much scope on the job front so I never actually earned more than £120 a week (before tax). Even now that would seem like riches. Of course all the money I received was legally, or I wouldn't mention it here. But I didn't work for a lot of it. So why should I expect any more than I have? As you needn't earn happiness in life. It's literally every person's right. Do I ask my cat to work before I look after her? Do parents want their children to pay back all the money they spent on them once they start working?

It's a sad view that people expect to suffer to succeed. I know people who are away from home 10-12 hours a day, are millionaires and never there to use it. Idiots. I doubt the woman concerned enjoys travelling 20 miles to work at dawn, working with shares for 8-10 hours and repeating this farce 5 days a week. It must be the most boring life on earth. Who wants money if you have to prostitute your life for it? OK, of course I'm a hippy, and Screaming Lord Sutch had hippy policies in the 60s many of which are now the law. We are ahead of the crowd, not behind it. Why are more and more London professionals suffering from stress related mental illnesses as they played the game, commuted and worked twice as much as a person should and then, fancy that, cracked up? I hear I am with the elite sharing tablets and anxieties as we are all living in the same hell hole they call a city.

As the best books tell you when the final judgement comes it's by ourselves, I am preparing for that. I thought work was paid time which almost always guaranteed suffering, and was not totally disappointed when the world of employment finally spat me out as inedible. But besides the self respect (remember, I never earned more than £120 a week) the time spent at work did about as much as leaving less time to kill whilst living alone. Had I been married I doubt I'd be writing this now. So judging myself having spent 14 years looking after myself, and working for some of that, why on earth would I look back and say I failed? Failed at what? Pleasing my family? All that failed was my aim to live with a family and not alone. And as my own efforts (or lack of) played so little part in that as not to count, I can never judge myself as some others do. Of course they have no right to but that never stopped anyone. I was saying to someone today that from the people living alone not through choice, does that have to be an automatic route to depression, and we really had to think about it. I just don't know. But I don't hear from any family or friends "Well done, you do a great job" but "Look at the state of your house/garden" "Why don't you learn to cook" "You don't socialise enough" (that took incredible depth of perception, as if it was a choice) "You spend too long on the computer" "You get up too late".

Why? So bloody what? My suffering can't be felt by anyone, so why criticise me for it? Why tell a leper they don't shake hands nicely as they have three fingers missing? They know already! I don't need snidey comments, I need a practical helper. If I was backward I wouldn't already know what I can do to get out of any position I'm in, and if I was wouldn't be able to comprehend the advice. Not being backward I am totally aware of how others see me and have actually checked every known alternative to escape said situation to find there are no doors, let alone hidden exits or keys. I'd give myself and everyone else in my position a bloody great award, 'Congratulations, you have lived alone for X years'. No details needed, that is enough for me. Survive that and you can survive almost anything.

People working 60 hours a week are twats. Apart from being illegal in half the civilised world (not the UK) it's a choice they can stop at any time. I'm not Labour but the party was created two centuries ago to stop this happening. All they did was take the edge off it. If you have 5 days from 7 spent working even if you claim to enjoy it (enjoy sitting in an office selling investments, do me a favour) and some even add weekends as well, you clearly have nothing worth doing in your barely existent spare time. If you hate your wife and children I can understand avoiding them most of the time, but why get married and have children at all? Do these guys think it's going to be paradise, realise it's no great shakes and hide in the office or in their lorry? You can't have it both ways. If you like your family spend more time with them, if not, call it a day. It's a free country. But spend most of your life half way across town barely getting to know your children's names they for one will have little respect for you. My mother worked all hours, didn't earn enough to warrant it, and had little time for the family as a result. She seemed happy at work and nowhere else, and in true integrity finally bailed and also managed to work part time when she did. I can't recall the exact timing but once she'd left the vile pit of a family home she no longer avoided her new one.

I think I may have to split this entry in two, it's reached a record size... But I hope to goodness even one person learns from it.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

The vagina monologue

I wonder if life really depends where you look? Is it true that despite thinking we see it all as it is there are actually different ways and parts to look at that change how we see things altogether? Buggered if I know but at least I've raised it.
I've got half an hour before my appointments and rather than do anything else wanted to come here. I don't know why as besides the previous question there's nothing particular to say, but that isn't how it works as the material arrives when I start and not before in cases like today.

I've basically been dissected and am gradually being put back together. All my faults were laid out to the exclusion of my good points, and despite a few being correct the overall picture was far from accurate. But there was a year of paranoia where I'd been defending myself here from an unknown critic, now I've found out who it is and can move on.
My bottom line is if there was any better way of doing things why the hell would I do things the way I am now? Other people who poke their noses in don't think of the obvious. There are no better alternatives. If there were of course they would be preferable but everything I do is because I can't think of anything better, and from the few offers I get few are worth accepting. The people who interest me are rarely around and besides the ones who live abroad have long since left me out of their lives. So I do whatever's available and possible, and if that means hours on the computer (which not only improves my writing skills but may one day get me published) then thank god I've got a computer and broadband. If I'd been earning money sitting here for the same number of hours I'd be a valuable member of society, but as I don't I'm a dropout and a parasite. OK, I'll be a leech, they don't seem to mind being leeches so why should I?

Next, disappointment. Basically with a few rare exceptions few things turn out as good as you expect. Revelations about UFOs are as much use as the rantings of a drunk with no evidence whatsoever. People getting paid to fantasise, when in fact exploiting my wish for such things to be real. Of course if they were we couldn't be disappointed and these things wouldn't be in doubt. But the industry and claims need so much investigation to finally reach a point where behind the hype you find absolutely nothing. Promises of future events in this dimension are little better. How someone can hook you into performing on camera for Sky One when it turns out the programme will be broadcast on 3G phones implies some sort of funny business. Women who want to see me are not apparently interested in sex but know they like talking to me. OK, get me castrated and dress me up as a woman if that's all they're looking for. If a woman wants a man for anything why not sex? They can chat far better and be understood with other women, and unless they look like a moose the man won't be concentrating on anything more than he can see anyway. I don't need female friends. If by pure chance a woman comes along who looks like Sigmund Freud (including the beard) and doesn't find me attractive either and is good company, then I make an exception. Otherwise if you mix a man and a woman the chances are about 95% one will want more and 85% the other won't. What's the point?

Women are very good about blanking out the bits they don't want to see. So they pretend after five years of friendship they are amazed you want more. My fucking arse they are. From the second moment you met they knew and didn't give a shit. Because they knew just seeing them gave them a chance to unload their nonsense with the vague hope you may get a reward in the distant future allowed them to continue this torture until the man caves in and makes his move. Then they depart and find another victim. Men can't usually be devious like that. We are dogs, we do things in the open and don't really care or have much ability to be subtle. There really isn't a need. If women weren't subtle to the point of invisibility life would have 3/4 of its question marks taken out. Women I know as friends give no indication at all there's any more interest, but that doesn't mean there isn't, it just means they don't show it. And they can wait until a man makes their move as there's no sense of urgency compared to a man. A woman can lose her desire indefinitely but a man can't even divert his attention to anything else if his mind's on sex. Well someone designed us different and as I always say, in my experience the few women who act like men always look like them. No use to me. Probably have high testosterone as one I knew actually did and believe me was no catch...

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Inner and outer peace

Manna from heaven or bird shit falling from the sky? You want excitement, but though major good news appears maybe every few years there's no ration on bad. That's the nature of life. Few outside the east teach it and I learnt it by experience. The trouble is once you know you have to make a strategy that incorporates that fact and no longer live relying on anything good coming from outside. Instead you must realise the balance will always be against you, and when the bullets hit learn to rise above it all. It's all about maintaining your inner peace and not being swayed up or down by what comes in randomly from outside.

I say this as my final lesson came today (that may be good news in itself- nothing more to learn) when I had 3 messages, one awful, one potentially awful and one good. Typical ratio. I realised once the let down and crisis had passed that that will happen the rest of my life so why be affected by it? Just like in being proud of your achievements if youfail as you will then feel bad for your failures, which by nature will always be more, it's better to do your best and not be affected either way. It's not worth the downside as you'll feel great for doing something major one day, and then shit for not being able to do it another. The failures always win as they are easier and the default is always nothing, so why play the game? Don't listen to me, I'm quoting Buddha and he got it right long before Jesus was around. I just had to get there my own route.

The really bad news only had a tiny benefit. I won't be seen on TV by half a million people, it's been axed. The lesson is if I ever do become famous it'll never be taken for granted or seen as easy as this step was my first and possibly only chance to it. Being on an obscure cable channel even a few times or more makes barely a dent in your profile. One minute on mass TV and you're almost made. Well not for me now. No idea what went wrong and despite the programme being made it's unlikely to ever be shown now they've pulled it.

I imagined for months I was getting my break but there's no break now and am forced to never again look ahead, only do what I'm doing now and ignore the future. Even if I'd been given a day for a showing there's a tiny chance I wouldn't even be in it, so better to forget all possibilities as many never materialise. I am being apparently forced towards sainthood. I have literally been sent as many ordeals as a person can get, besides fatal illness. Of course unless I'm killed by other means then that's coming my way eventually but of course no need to dwell on.
Technically I guessed something was up. This week was way too clear and free to be real. I saw my diary yesterday and from experience thought 'It's such an easy week something's got to come along and fuck it up, I'm not living in paradise', and sure enough it did. But there was a lesson in it and I don't believe there are any more. If you intend to rise above it all (bad and good) there's nothing left to do but practice. You may not do that well at it but have the rest of your life as there's no other path.

It is strange so few people suffer in life as I clearly have. Many share similar circumstances and some far worse individual ordeals than me. It's not a competition but I feel singled out, partly as I know most people as I said before can't process these ordeals and I try automatically. I know I use the fruits of them to help my own clients but besides the current resolution to take my eye off the reality hasn't got me very much if anything besides understanding. As Nick Roach says, you can be an expert on skateboarding theory but will still fall off the first time you try. I'm certainly (no false modesty here) an expert on life, but only in theory. My own is one few would care to swap with, even if they've got awful jobs or worse houses as my whole package is much like a prison. All the basics, none of the frills and no women. Pardon me for complaining but subtract a TV appearance and this one's left with nothing besides a few material possessions and a family which is the equivalent of the prisoner surviving for life on bread and water. They may not need much more but would probably prefer it.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Is there a point?

Is there a point?

This seems more than just a blog entry and may well end up as such. It’s the ultimate question of my current situation as there are only the two possible answers, yes or no. For the whole of our lives either to be a random journey of experiences as a continual reaction to the combination of ourselves and the conditions outside or deliberately arranged as a mission by what can only be seen as God to experience everything we do as a way of becoming superior to how we began.

Logic tells me there is nothing and it’s just as it is. When I’m alone I really am and when something starts the finish is down to pure chance. But in my actual experience in between the random elements there appears to be a design. I hear the same words I’m writing or thinking on the radio, hear the same words twice on the radio by different people, and see many situations I now record which would be virtually impossible to arrange by chance. It seems despite the usual chaos, the fact a few events every now and then seem to focus into beyond the normal means I can’t dismiss the possibility. The default position tells me there’s nothing, and something more has to be proved. So I’ll carry on purely in my imagination as if things were arranged, just to look at the possibilities.

I began my life with fears, hard work, illness, being alone and then one by one went through each one. Eventually all at the same time. The most I avoided was work, but I didn’t even do that. I was simply not given many jobs so couldn’t get used to it. The rest were handed to me on a plate one way or another, even at times by my own hand through lack of information what I was doing. I’ve learnt a few things as a result, equivalent to the benefit of losing a kidney. One, I found people to be more supportive than I expected, two, it made me agoraphobic and three it made me use the limits I have to do as much as possible in the few environments I can manage in.

I can’t believe trial by ordeal is genuine in God’s world. Thor went through the same as me, he was given tasks he found impossible to complete, not because he was incapable but the other side was cheating. He was actually far better than he thought he was when told the truth and proved himself as a result. I’ve proved I can suffer with the best of them, and hell isn’t imaginary but here at any time it chooses. So is heaven, but technically heaven should be reliable so as only peak experiences I’ve discounted that as hell and heaven can’t exist together so this can only be one or the other, hell indeed.

Death can’t make any more difference than replacing chance with oblivion. As my experiences while asleep contain that, it’s not a pleasant prospect ahead of hell. Unlike the religions where you die and go to hell, I say we go to hell and then die. This isn’t ‘my own stuff’, as what has happened to me is the same for everyone, I’ve just had the far level of it compared to most- being a counsellor I hear many ordeals and mine, had I been competing, would be equal to any other. But that was purely what taught me what I have discovered, the mystics say the more you carry the more you grow. It may be true in the gym, but in life our minds can be damaged by experiences. I am studying this at the moment, the hippocampus in the brain can be reset by trauma to not work at all and needs lots of treatment to repair. If mine will be it will surely be a miracle. But the greater the ordeal the greater the prize, it says. That would mean because (despite spending my life trying to stay within my comfort zone) I have taken on a pretty good selection of the worst experiences known to man (I have a pretty fertile imagination and can just think of more but won’t invite them in by thinking about it, as if I can). Should God be shifting things so everything we see and hear is all planned (despite only seeing the joins occasionally which give it away) then unless it’s not the God the religions believe, but a sadistic child with infinite powers (as it appears to me) it would come to an end and I’d move beyond the ordeal. That would be the trial by ordeal and should I have survived will end up superhuman as nothing else could get to me again, I’d dealt with it all. I have met a few of such people and they seem genuine enough. The fact I was designed to have an emotional pain threshold ten times more sensitive than average means it doesn’t take much to make me suffer.

So the events that I see others glide through send me to the edge. Being an only child has to be relevant as there’s never going to be anyone else in my position besides me, and once my parents die that’s it, I’m on my own altogether, unless I have children. Imagine that, a child with a father who can barely go out, let alone take them abroad as mine did so many times. They’d be destined from birth to exceed my aspirations to be Woody Allen, except the chances of me not marrying Jewish (50-50, from past experience) would make that impossible as you can’t be a true neurotic in his image if not. But having wanted a wife and children since 24 when I started in the real world of work 22 years later and all I’ve had was a cat. Nothing against the cat but I would have done anyway, it’s not exactly an alternative.
I freely admit to being one of the few people able to process such information, and most people given my experiences would just complain and do no more. I know I have been able to help many clients with similar problems through experiencing them myself, but the mystics also say there’s little point in helping others if you’re not whole yourself. It’s always ironic when cancer specialists die of it (I think it’s about 20% have to as they are no less immune to it as their patients who all die as well). In my work it’s possible by virtue of objectivity not to let your own problems stop you fixing similar others. But I’m in such a mess, for 100000 good reasons that all that is a tiny balance in comparison with how I got to that position.

Unless I see the light at the end of the tunnel I can only give the interim decision though it all seems random and the germs that live in us and attack every organ in our body are more powerful than the bodies they inhabit, at least while they are alive there, the complex arrangements I see too often for chance alone imply a sadistic or at best neutral force deliberately not only leaving little clues they are about like pawprints, or the little squares round the TV screen when the Ceefax codes get through by accident, but then arranging 100% of our lives when we don’t see the tracks and get a bloody good laugh out of it all. Big Brother in large version, making decisions to punish, reward or let down purely at the whim of a producer for their own entertainment. That’s not the God of any holy books but a spoilt child pulling the wings off flies. Not knowing if the effects of the ordeal are reversible even the few situations (almost all drawn from my past so as dead as the relatives in it) I imagine may help may not even if they recur. So I see no chance of a tidy conclusion (evidence, who ever has had one?) so the whole lot may be a cruel joke where some win, some lose, and some go totally mad. I may still take route 3.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Little things

This is an example of what passes for excitement in Kingsbury. Watching the new people next door finally landscape their front garden is pretty up there but the main event last week was a detective job based on a hobby I've had almost all my life. Passing along the North Circular I saw a foreign car for the 2nd time with a custom plate DERRICK. Having the book of international plates I was unable to find any of 7 characters but drove at 50 plus to see the car had a little number 1 on the right which was totally unfamiliar to me. So I read the book and soon picked out Sweden have a number at the right for the month of issue (I forget what they do for December as it goes from 0 to 9) and that was unique. I then emailed another member (yes, there's a plate collector's club) and he confirmed Sweden now can use 7 characters. Had I not driven like a maniac in the cause of my interest that would have remained a mystery for some time.
Like when I saw ROBERT and assumed it was from somewhere else, then saw it parked miles away from where I first saw it and saw it was Polish. The only Nissan Cube in the country I saw parked in Richmond (C2 UBE) and then it was parked in Finchley regularly. I have, in a city of 7 million people, seen the same car a few times on so many occasions it's truly amazing. One had a plate ZOO 32. Believe it or not, this corresponds with a Dutch import plate, though it was made to look British. But only valid a week. So a year or two later I saw the offending blue Honda Civic again with the same plate. The actual reason is mainly since we had the London congestion charge many people made fake plates to avoid the charge. They are totally untraceable and the police aren't the slightest bit bothered or aware they are even fakes. I know as I told them and gave an address. A neighbour has a friend from Thailand who visits every year and he's had the same fake plate for 3 years he drives across the world and has not only driven it here with no question but crossed borders from Denmark, Germany and Thailand to Britain. The plate is actually closest to Swedish but not exactly like any in the world. Amazingly if the police stopped any of these cars they'd be walloped with a huge fine but they have all got away with it as I see them around year after year.

Being Saturday I can now say last week was 100% predictable. Not an event out of place good bad or indifferent. I haven't finished one project since others choose to delay replying to vital questions, and every other job is out of my hands on the pleasure side. With the fixed structure I live within (like Wormwood Scrubs) there is little room for variation. When I went out all over I still came back empty handed. It didn't change a thing, besides add the odd event to my list. In 2006 my record was probably the local PC world...

I'm past caring, it was a lesson that it really doesn't matter in the details. What would you be more impressed by, a night out or a night spent writing an article? My reasoning is every Joe can have a night out but few can write an article or paint something worth exhibiting. I have no children. I could have, three or four, but the women were not for me. Once or twice it may have happened anyway and all that would happen would be I'd have a financial drain all my life and probably hardly see them, and be connected to a woman I never even liked. So let the proletariat breed like rabbits, if I have children it'll be when someone I want to be with for life marries me and not before. However nice it would be it's not an achievement or status symbol, but people with kids often shun their single friends and parade their kids outside the school gates as if they made them cell by cell in a workshop after years of study. Well every living organism can reproduce, it's not an achievement!

Other than that, I'm forced to learn philosophy as when you have 2 hours with nothing but a TVshowing crap and a computer to keep you occupied you mind wanders to why and how you are stuck in this abysmal position. Then you learn general principles and even though not one makes you happy at least you end up removing the guilt associated with failure. If you fail an exam you cocked up. But if you fail at life life cocked up. Business is very controllable. You have skills, sell them to whoever will take them, buy a house and pay the bills. Very organised. But pleasure? It comes and goes as it pleases. Why on earth do people meditate or take drugs? To try and control it. I meditate, but even that isn't a reliable route or everyone would do it. Sex is the most reliable, but that depends on other people, in my case women, so in fact is the least reliable remedy of all.

What on earth is the use of all this information besides to help others, as I use it for? OK, that's a good reason but I am in the eye of the storm. I blow away others' problems but mine remain untouched by the wind of change. A poet without even trying...

Friday, August 18, 2006

Living alone


Having attempted to go as far as the nearest shops but rained each time I thought about it, I will wait. I just did my 3rd video blog, and heard from Sky TV who sent a cryptic message saying the programme was made for 'mobile devices'. What? It's going straight to MP3? Do me a lemon... What's the point of these poor sods (OK, they actually got paid for it unlike me) shlepping around the country for weeks to be shown on some chav's mobile? What a bunch of arse. I just sent an email to ask which mobile devices he was referring to and whether one actually included a satellite receiver. I await the final verdict with mild trepidation as this is all you expect from TV companies and was lucky my first effort was shown.

Otherwise it's the Big Brother final tonight so my evening is fixed. The last business email I was waiting for hasn't arrived which is holding another project back, and the rest is as yesterday more or less. The week was totally predictable as I doubt there are any variable elements left here now. It's not as if a woman who saw me as attractive as something a dog left behind would suddenly change her mind and offer her body to me. I did get a little rare financial bonus so something's slightly less of a problem than it was before. But socially it's as it is and remains to be so. I use the time however feels right between work, and there are few better alternatives left. Even if I had the mental and physical energy the only extra I'd do is go back to football at Barnet, I used to go a lot, then they were relegated so I travelled all over the place to see other teams, and now they've been in the league a year and my health hasn't permitted me risking 2 hours in a confined space. Pills or no pills.

My video blogs, whatever the quality, are not, like all the others, getting viewed. So though I'm on number three it won't be my route to fame. And possibly not Sky TV either if the programme isn't for TV after all. The third programme I made will probably be on next year but not seen by many people here. All outside my control. I despair to think of anything else. Technically there really isn't anything wrong, but as there's nothing right the default feeling is still wrong. That has to be changed but not a lot I can do about it. I looked for an escape in the supernatural and all I found was infinite clairvoyance potential, but barely used by most people including me. It's not that useful so far as even when you know something before you've been told you can't do a lot about it. All other powers I can think of are pretty difficult to perform, if not impossible. So that doesn't seem the way out. So it's back to the TV soon and I'll sign off before I embarrass myself.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Thursday already

Well, days pass, wind passes and my exams were passed 22 years ago. But what do I pick up as life passes? I'll start with the first I collected today, where I saw views no different to those I used to have in Devon less than a mile from here.

fryent field1
Originally uploaded by satguru.
Another rural scene, apart from the houses.

fryent straw
Originally uploaded by satguru.
It looks much like Devon, but is just round the corner in Kingsbury.

I got a really nice bunch of pictures as well as a nice bike ride and then did some really gross housework including cleaning the dishwasher (yech!) and then finding you can put a sachet in there to do it for you. But the crap there makes me wonder how any machine can make your plates cleaner when the filter has stuff in it you get in the bottom of the bin when it doesn't get emptied with the rest of it.
Tomorrow, besides the Big Brother final at night is pretty well a blank sheet. So far the week has been so predictable I could have written the lot in advance. My video blog, unlike geriatric's, received 9 views, but did get a nice comment as you can see. No idea who Henry Miller is but apart from Jason Alexander I hadn't come across many people like me so will be interested to see who he is.
Technically I can't see anything dodgy now or round the corner, which makes a change. Email replies were on a break today, I probably ask such complicated questions 'When's my TV programme coming on', for instance, it takes a team of researchers and a few assistants drawn from an agency to find the answers. But as long as they are what I want to hear I can wait.

Actually I think being famous will help many of my problems. For a start the money that usually comes with it will allay my income worries, and I may well meet more people and maybe even a female one. Being recognised in the street must be amazing. When I walked into the YMCA after I was on TV for 5 seconds the crowd that surrounded me was incredible. Having that wherever I went would really be something, and the celebrities who shun it should swap jobs with me and see what they'd prefer. So as you see I've done my second video diary, it really only summarises what you read here but as it's on another site none of them know me. Meanwhile another week is passing and the high and lowlights are being passed through as they happen.

Life story 2 The present.

More life story.

What's the point?

Having established virtually to a certainty that we can't control more than the minimum in our lives but are moved by circumstances, as the eastern religions tell you the best we can do is sit back and enjoy it as there's little else we can do. It is how it is whether we like it or plan it so we just have to learn to accept and even enjoy it as it is as there's nothing else.

My routine is as such. This week has the least (almost none) work for ages, which apart from the money was a welcome break. Yesterday was described yeasterday, and today was business calls for an hour or so (one extremely important) and then as the rain had stopped the planned gardening. The sole benefit of a garden with brambles its complete length are a few plates of blackberries a year. Big trade off I don't think. I would give some to the guy next door but he died so it's me and last year I washed them, not realising they'd go mouldy as soon as they got wet. None were eaten in 2005. Now I know to wait till I'm going to eat them first. At least I'll get some fruit again for a couple of days.

Then it was my sole work appointment and off to mum's, as on Friday it's the Big Brother final and she won't let me watch it there. Other plans of course tend to move in periods of a year or more so what the hell can I update in a day? Sky have sent me an automated response but I really hope they haven't lost the programme as they currently claim. Imagine the scene. Crew travels the country for weeks carrying out interviews, spends a month editing it, send it to Sky and a week later when no response was received, are asked 'What programme?'. Discovering they hadn't saved any copies it appeared the whole 60 minute epic was lost and impossible to retrieve all those months of work that went into it. I actually believe that can happen and probably has. Production companies trust TV c0mpanies, find all their programmes for years are shown and lose their focus. They make a pilot, don't bother to make copies and bingo, it's ended up in Glasgow waiting in a sorting office under 'dead letters' until it's disposed of after 5 years. This is what happens roughly to undelivered mail here as it was on a TV programme. They rarely try and deliver it, the postmen return a proportion of post if they're running late, pretend it's undeliverable and file it away. The bosses trust them, assume it's undeliverable, keep it for the statutory period and burn the lot.

The week (as half way through) has so far been exactly as expected to the second. Projects move on haltingly but none are finished. The wait when someone else has been passed the ball to deal with before it returns to you is excruciatingly tedious. I have about 6 decisions currently on hold with other people, with the sole one with a date attached is in just over a week. The others are: maybe in a few weeks, this week or not at all, in about 9 months, this week but may not be what I want, and I can't even remember the others. Meanwhile I need things to occupy me until and unless one or more of those occurs in my favour. Business and pleasure, and mainly the place where they overlap in the case of TV. But tomorrow is an open book. Housework and similar has been done to the point I can leave it alone. The garden had its main makeover today and that's about it. I really don't want to spend most of the day on the computer, there's little left to do here since I did the video blog just now. I have a friend coming later on but otherwise the world's my oyster, lobster, hamster, catheter, cancer, condom, cesspit and canneloni. Which goes? You decide. I certainly can't.

Life story

Well fuck me!!!

Having seen a 79 year old video blog on youtube with a million hits this week talking absolute drivel, I realised quality counted for little when it came to fame as I saw a half a page article about him in a national paper. Therefore I could do no less than my first official video blog, even though the only tool I have is a still camera with a 2 minute memory for extremely poor quality audio and video. But it's enough and I have entered part one of my video blog, and am now researching ways to be featured on Youtube otherwise only a fraction of people will see it. I always said after seeing blogs quoted in the papers that fame would soon come from the internet and it didn't take long for me to be proved right. I may be on minority TV but this guy got many more viewers than my first effort on the net, so here's mine.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Looking for trouble

Half my life was spent avoiding work. Once I'd achieved that I started avoiding trouble. No way. However careful you are there isn't a thing you can do besides avoid the easiest accidents. The rest are unavoidable. You get into trouble, either after taking every possible step not to, it comes out of the blue or you don't even know how you got there. You can't avoid poor health, you catch almost everything you do involuntarily, and although there are plenty of ways you can catch virtually any illness known to man if you tried, you can't avoid any of them by trying.

So, anxiety becomes fear of the possible but on the balance caution starts to reduce as you realise besides the greatest bloopers you can't stay away from any sort of trouble whatever you do. This week has just started and is the combination of banal, tired, stressed and chaotic. Lack of work for the first time in a while was simply replaced by health details better glossed over here, minor but irritating anyhow. Today, due to that, lost every chance of going out anywhere but added every spare picture to my Flickr album now I have no limits.

Actually (note the relevant change of colour) I'd already worked out you can't bring good situations or magic into your life so not avoiding the crap parts just shows we are blown by the wind whether we pretend we're in charge or not. Of course the only real power we have is the truth. I usually use cognitive therapy with clients as all it does is point out the difference between their beliefs and reality. That's the end as once you know the reality there's still little you can do about it besides your own part, ie doing your best. Obviously if you have an exam and write 'bollocks' all over the page you won't have, but besides the totally irrational, which is dealt with by cognitive therapy, we do what seems right and get chaos in return.

Good, bad and indifferent. But heaven and hell is in there as well. OK, hell actually. Heaven is only there as a little excerpt so we know what it's like if it exists. But Buddha said everything we find good is impermanent and whatever is happening now it may not last and in my case definitely hadn't. That leaves the indifferent (limbo) and bad, hell. The fact destruction is easier than construction, failure easier than success etc etc., we are left with a life that offers heaven and delivers chaos. Take that formula and extend the fact that even when we get what we want it often gets taken away, broken or wasn't even that good, the rest is either boring or bloody awful. I've seen the worst the mind and body can fall to, and unlike a faulty car we suffer and not the driver when we go wrong. We are both and are stuck with having to be there while our body is treated unlike leaving a car with the garage. These are my examples but anyone can see from their own lives that if they are happy it's down to pure luck, and there's no guarantee it will last, in fact (besides death) there's a very high chance it won't.

So, I see a repetition of week after week with a routine designed to take the edge off living alone, having to deal with each obligation before it's too late to, and am offered rare prizes almost at random. Details currently involve:

Sky TV having no knowledge of my programme
Waiting for a second date at an uncertain point in the future
Telling a second woman how I feel next week after over a year of preparation
Having a second TV date early next year sometime

That's actually a heck of a lot, as the two TV are the most important of my career since my degree and both women are in the top half of the premier league. But what happens on any os way out of my hands and I have to live as per usual until what can only be described as either long term likelihood for the TV, and the toss of a dice for the women. My philosophical abilities have been completed blogging for 2 years, it doesn't make me happy but I am becoming an intellectual machine regardless of condition. My intellect is the only bit that works properly, and I can't bank on that can I?

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Getting somewhere

Bit by bit life collects events. The sort you may take for granted at the time but are essential if not done. When you’re not well you discover never to take a thing you ever do or did for granted. But though the minor work is done, the major is slow and is done by stages. Half by me and half by others. It can be so boring to wait while something crosses another stage, such as getting a ‘date’ with a woman (ie with others present) but two weeks ahead. It’s as if the whole of my life outside routine is in slow motion, taking years to meet, impress and finally take out a woman. Not since 2002 did I get a woman quickly by meeting, taking out and getting to bed within a few weeks or dates. That is now the past and technically unless I settle for someone I would spit out had they been edible could last for life. Unless I pay to have a fake bride from the third world that is the case.
I appear the opposite to women’s stereotypes as the women who like me are for my mind and not usually my body. I always noticed the women who were the most forward were the least attractive. It takes a lot for me to turn down an offer but I can think of some true mingers over the years when I ran as fast as I could.

But that’s one aspect of many. All other stages on my major ambitions have been frozen to a virtual standstill. Sky TV do a schedule for the month ahead each month and never told me if I’m up in September. The other one isn’t on till 2007 so I can leave that on the back burner. One little gap in the gloom was for the first time in ages I got to meditate twice in a week and felt something happen the second time. I’ll be back and if that’s the case will have at least a direct method to success that can work at times to insulate me from the hellish nightmares that can be outer reality. It’s half me and half them, as with most things. I appear to receive far less of life’s good things than everyone else, whether or not I worked for them. And then with the nervous system of Stephen Hawking with a hangover any adversity sends me back ten times more than for anyone else. I was always sensitive but with the scars of life the armour is almost gone by now.

Other than that it’s business as unusual. I say that as I know few people with lives like mine. I ought to make a search and form a club for single long term unemployed. I met two at a conference once but were common and dubious so didn’t hang around too long. But unlike me they seemed to get on with their lives and had not a shred of guilt for nature (in the form of their mental health) preventing them from working. Or my old friend from Wimbledon who never intended to work again round about the time I was laid off. I thought it may be a year at most and ended up permanent. The guilt is finally going but the situation is still crap. There are no suggestions beyond what I’ve heard. Some people believe if I join clubs and groups of even more peculiar examples I’d get myself both a social life and a partner. The fact I joined these groups at around 14 and barely met anyone since is a clue why these plans aren’t the key to success with people. What is? How should I know?

I see a page of recycled blog posts, but if I hadn’t written this I wouldn’t have written anything. I said it before, if this goes in a spiral not a circle, moving forward as it returns to the same few issues over and over again I won’t be accused of repetition or deviation. No hesitation, I never stop. But moving two steps closer to an aim and still being weeks or months ahead is no better than nothing, which is technically all there is besides a minute’s appearance on a video that’s been seen so many times the tape is wearing out. That appearance got me nothing beyond itself, but that was good enough. But when I start with the first detail I know, ie my friend abroad is coming back in 2009 it’s a pretty poor start. The next landmark is two weeks ahead when I confess my interest for another woman of two and that’s it. Then the TV date (unknown) and appearance 3 next year at an also unknown date and unknown viewers. Few people need to focus on major events as their lives are satisfying. They have a family and activities and good health generally. I had most of it besides the partner and know exactly what the difference is. If either of the two women concerned were interested half my problems would vanish at a stroke. As Maharaji says, never rely on the unreliable and people are the most unreliable of all.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Dragging the depths for material

Despite doing nothing more than usual this week I did it all twice. I had to go to my Dad's midweek and my Mum as I did her gardening as usual when her gardener's busy. So the time wasn't wasted, and I had a friend over for a couple of hours the other night and that was about the whole week, plus another trip- tying up some loose accounts. Like a cowboy on the corral but with files and only room for one person when there were two in the garden shed which passes for an office. What a fascinating life it can be.

When nothing much happens I go off on tangents, and one day a tangent will be not just published but paid for somewhere. That is both an aim and a belief. With so much practice I barely ever plan them unless they were on my mind all day. I open the box here and something flows. Philosophy has been forced on me by adversity and days on my own every week. I crack one issue after another, but instead of many having any practical use for me just lead me to the next one. How many could there be and will I ever get to the end? Even if you have an answer to every social issue it's pretty useless if you aren't living with other people. I never had low self esteem, the closest I got was being embarrassed for not having a job. I looked at all aspects of that and realised it wasn't my problem and anyone rich enough not to work is never thought badly of though those of us not well enough to work or shunned by employers are seen as lazy scroungers. And if lazy means you don't want to waste your time doing pointless menial tasks then yes, I'm lazy, and it's a virtue as it stops people wasting their energy.

I've got no issues today or seen ahead. There's only so much excitement possible in life and mine is mainly in the past. Will Self wrote a nice article in The Times this week about local parks, and was fascinating as he lived off my road and they are all the places I've taken on Flickr and grew up with myself. Besides going to Cambridge he's no more qualified than I am to write, he just went ahead and did it. I don't know his career path but he definitely had no insiders to help him unlike most. I'd write my own autobiography first, maybe as a novel, as it's something to begin without needing to think of a story. It's all about presentation. We all have interesting bits in our lives but some describe them better than others for entertainment value.

Stories such as Tony the amateur artist, who at the age of 4 daubed faeces in circles on the yellow portakabin wall at school to try and hide the fact he'd shit his pants will probably remain my best if I live to 100. It's hard to follow a story like that but I'll try. OK, I did it a couple of years later, I had a major duty to pass and was sitting round the corner in my friend's mother's car while she picked up his brother from a friend. I pretended nothing had happened and as soon as he walked in the car any pretence was impossible. The next day at school the woman on duty in the playground said 'I'm not standing near him who poos'. Like no one on earth had ever done it before, and I'd been cleaned up the day before. But it proves I am not immune from the wrath of my won pen, god forbid. Who on earth could aim acid at anyone and everything without being able to take it themself?
Any more nostalgia while I'm here? If only something would happen in 2006 which would become nostalgia 20 years from now. My last real nostalgia was the last week my friends were in Golders Green before leaving for at least 7 years abroad. I filmed the whole thing, and friends were in and out all week, eating and partying as it really was the last time. They owned the house for around 50 years and was sold last year after being rented out. That is sad and since then nothing has taken their place. Besides 6 years of being incommunicado I was in and out of the house for 30 years and never again. That was over 4 years ago and nothing since that rings a bell.

I now think I'll need to check the paper each week as the dropkicks at Sky know less than my cat about their jobs. I expect the programme will be on from 7 to 11pm and it coincides with the new series of the 4400 (looked like total crap as usual) so I'll have to be vigilant or I'll miss it. Well, that's a journey from 2006 to 1964 and back in a complete circle, a sort of preview to any book I'll write. I just started Will Self's book I was given and it's about his life, so I'm not just reading a true story but about people and places I know which is bloody unusual. He's the last contact from the past I haven't managed to get hold of, and since I last saw him in 1972 will be interested to know if he remembers me. I did make an impression most places I was so I hope so.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Each step of the way is an ordeal...

Not a good idea, have to learn. Despite a better reason than usual (Dr Karl on Radio 5, the world's cleverest scientist, appartently) I was up till almost 4 last night and then couldn't sleep properly after 10. I had one client and was then dragged over the road to find some accounts before I had the chance to decide what else to do.
Besides a totally annoying but trivial return to a local food shop worth a whole pound, all my other jobs aren't urgent thank god. Most indoors, my neighbour brought me 2 litres of milk after I ran out last night, it turns out it was special omega 3 expensive stuff for his son and he has been duly been given a bollocking by his wife and no doubt she also blames me though I knew nothing besides he said that was all there was. It helped me out no end but despite offering to return it the damage has been done and the cat and I are happy anyway.

It's 6.30 pm now as I don't intend to be up late again, chronic fatigue takes one hour of exertion for about a day's suffering. My mum's claim it can be stress related is now being investigated, and I am certain a regular supply of sex, love and company must take at least the edge off it. Like that'll happen in a hurry. Besides yesterday's list of plans I now have little else on my system and will see if the current space remains filled with the banal and routine, miraculous or disaster. While I'm in the space (only since I finished so much washing up just now as if I wanted tea the cups had to be clean, one effect of having plenty of visitors) I'll wonder about the miraculous as it's the only part that inspires me from the rest of it.

Of the women I see as 'friends' at the moment, each is at a different stage. One is tried failed and wanted to remain friends, second is tried, still seeing and no idea what else and the third is will be trying. Now each has their own assets and physically I reckon in order I have a 10, an 8 and a 7. Personality is unrelated and I'd roughly assign a 6, 6 and 9 which makes the third the only one really suitable for more than regular sex and the odd conversation. 7 is my pass mark and unless I imagine the 10 while with the 7 doubt any experience would be reduced in enjoyment, like it'll ever even happen. I need these calculations to stop me getting caught in the sex/relationship trap. Rarely happens in reality as such prizes have evaded me for most of my life, but I have to be ready in case as however wonderful a woman's appearance is if she nags, whines and talks without listening it's not to be a move-in job. Quiet and boring used to turn me off as well until I realised if they look the part and care about me anything else is a bonus and not an essential. You have to be practical at 40 plus, but in the end you end up with what life coughs up in front of you and you either take it or wait for the next defective offering.

Yes I know I'm equally defective but enough women still want me those defects are clearly no more than irritants to my enemies and irrelevant to my friends. We all have them, I just tend to focus on mine and announce them in advance rather than pretend I'm fine and then wait for people to gradually find the truth. How many women would Woody Allen pull if he was a beer drinking couch potato who had been unemployed for 7 years and didn't care? OK, just as many, but not anyone with a brain. One or the other? If I have to have brains or nerves I'll just have to keep the brains and have a more interesting but perilous life. Maybe the seeds of a new stand up routine?

Bollocks and more bollocks

With a total absence of ideas and presence of free time I am painting on a blank canvas. As if in analysis I use a freedom of association to uncover any lost levels of my mind and display them here, trying not to bore, repeat or complain. That's a tough call. If I was being paid £500 by a magazine for doing so I'd take time, put ideas together for a day or two and mix the ideas around until I ended up with something technically valid. But it would probably be crap. Writing it from start to finish without a thought or a pause as I nearly always do is how I do it and get my best results.

So besides passing over the last few days, except to say the panic's over (not my problems directly so not reported here) I'm back on the keyboard and appreciate it. What on earth will occur beyond that is more of a mystery to me than it is to you reading it now. I am in the eye of the tornado, the worst is behind me and the future is unknown. I have a 'date', in the loosest of terms, in a couple of weeks (ie with a third person present) but one with a sting in its tail planned by me. However tempting it is to abandon this post due to lack of inspiration something of the professional in waiting in me forces me on, to depths previously unplumbed by me here. I've commented again on some blogs, and although I've had visits from places I didn't even know had telephone lines let alone computers only a hamburger salesman has commented for ages as if I could go to his country 4000 miles away just to buy one of his burgers. It's hard enough to find a Wimpy nowadays without having to travel abroad for one. What a twat. Otherwise it's close to bedtime but I'm still up and having just had an ex girlfriend over, who despite losing her edge some years ago was still present but has lost her sex drive. So she gets to use my internet and tell me the same stories she told me the last year every time I saw her. Between biscuits, though she did go easy on them tonight which was unusual.

It's as if I've been trained to make the most of spare time alone like a plant being put in a greenhouse to force it to bloom before its time. More like being locked in the loo as far as I'm concerned, and when you've finished all the books. How much can a person do without another to share it with? Clutching at straws of ex girlfriends, morons and the occasional neighbour to liven up my otherwise empty house is the best I can do. There's no one left besides family worth visiting since my friends left Golders Green for Florida, and thank god most of the house is tidy now so I needn't jump to duties as soon as the TV dries up like I used to. But even with broadband the internet doesn't have all the answers. It does its best, but how far can you get with a screen and speakers? Like a blow up doll, it may simulate reality but never can be. Sometimes I deliberately try and shock and offend here, simply as nothing seems to get a squeak out of my self-evident readers. The stats tell me they exist but they are too embarrassed to admit to it apparently. I always comment on people's sites, if you're not rude every comment means you matter. I used to have regular readers and 99% of their own blogs have stopped long since, and mine and a few others carry on regardless. The interest links now lead to dead ends of strange people who write juvenile profiles and post zero entries. For christ's sake the site's free and conveys no benefits for members who join and post nothing, unlike the byzantine Live Journal which I hate using with a vengeance. Join the site to post a comment? Why?

Anyway, this has been a dustbin for unnecessary and pointless thoughts, but maybe now they won't be buzzing around my head for the rest of the night. Lack of love and sex accounts for a lot of dross in life. Take my word for it.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Coming together?

I have been given years of ‘dead time’ interspersed with endless bad experiences, possibly so I was forced to look behind them all and both learn and teach from it. Seeing what really counts, why, and why it can’t be judged. It seems as if I had to be picked for this extremely demanding tasks is I know by comparison I’m one of the very few people able to analyse it (and would bother to try in the first place. Thanks a lot… Because despite seeing some sense in the picture the amount of pleasure is negligible, and though from looking I know exactly the main elements I need to enjoy life it hasn’t brought them any closer than they were.

A summary is all you need to judge about someone is if their heart’s in the right place. Life’s not about comparison. If I’d been living like everyone else I’d have conformed and not been judged and achieved increased profits for whoever I worked for, a bit more money for myself and probably missed nearly all the actual achievements I did have. The chicken pox finished this off after a friend (born again Christian) looked for the good in it. It allowed me to see how others would treat me (and myself) when incapable. They passed the test. If under intelligent control all this is to make me ready for success. My final challenge is to have to understand the understandable, both for my work and anyhow. This means analysing the final challenge of illogical behaviour, ie self harming, addiction, paranoia, body dismorphia and shyness. Not having a clue as to how anyone could get caught in such an unnecessary trap means I need to find out. As I have no tendencies for any of these and such feelings slip off like water on a duck, it means I have no understanding what drives people to do pointless things like that. Granted people don’t often understand anxiety or depression but that’s their business. But just realising I need to finish off my understanding means I have my final major professional task and expect by looking it won’t take long to find the keys to it, and possibly the cures as well for work.

But the healer needs to be well to look after others. None of these revelations are totally useful if I lose bits off myself to learn them. I don’t know if the bits I’ve already lost can grow back. There has been some major damage and whether it can be reversed isn’t in my power to know or control.

Other local news. I’m back at the gym! Two sessions in as many days and no trouble at all. The germs are virtually beaten. Two women to be pursued like one of those automatic greyhound races where you see them going round in a circle till one wins. But in my version they can all fall before the line. Technically woman one is still here after I confessed my interest which is fairly positive, and though not quite perfect as described she is a prize physically, past the pass level and probably a 9/10 which would be a first believe me. But until I get my hands on experience I have the same as I did before, a literal total vacuum. The second confession is being set up in a week or two, and I’d be in the unique position of having two physically incredible women at my disposal if both were interested. Actually I did have one who was good enough, I must remind myself. It was so long ago though it is easy to forget. Otherwise I’ve had a busy week either at home or opposite but seen more people than in the rest of the year. One is woman three on my list. She represents all that is wrong with every woman in my life as she is one of the best looking with so far the worst attitudes. 30 years of that actually, and though a little fumble 25 years ago that was the best I could do before she decided I wasn’t up to her clearly meteoric standards. There was someone just passable since then (1983) but she was retarded and lived so far away I ended up dumping her as I had exams and no time for both.

Occasionally I’ll break my rules and look ahead, partly as some entries are fixed next week plus plenty of space between them for anything or nothing to happen. So far there is one possible female booking as described, a little work and the rest remains free, which is good. Yesterday I cut the worst of the bushes, which can grow a foot in a month in the summer so surprised me when I went out there, as none of my windows overlook the garden except the spare room. The bathroom would but has frosted glass of course, and the kitchen has a door where the garden view would be and a conservatory. Upstairs I can see maybe 5 miles in each direction but not much of the garden itself. I certainly haven’t any plans for next week besides reacting to circumstances. I can take some photos in another park when I can be bothered and that’s all I can think of. I have more essays to type for my current course and always house and garden work but that applies to everyone not living in an institution. Just organising my thoughts into what I’ve learnt is pretty much an achievement in itself as it’s put years of stress into a pattern I can see a shape in now. Certain traps will never be fallen into again, I’ll never see myself as inadequate and reflect that from others, and try and finish off the last remnants of me judging other people. I am not Jesus but for some reason life (if it can) has chosen me to go through many ordeals (these being ones besides the numerous ones I’d deliberately avoided, like commuting) to take on an extremely similar role minus God. Not a spiritual element in it so far. Coincidences are the closest and they carry on in new ways, sending me clients with the same problems days after learning about them and similar situations happening all around me. But the delay (that isn’t technically right as delay implies a late arrival) still means I am lacking a prize.

My only prize was TV appearance #1 in march. That is it for 2006. Besides that I have tied up many loose ends with no actual benefits so far if ever. I know my friend’s plans for returning to the UK and why. They are bad bad bad news but no more than I ever expected. The only good is that unless something gets in the way I know the date they will return. But that isn’t going to help me for a very long time and have to forget about it or I’ll just end up counting the days (930) which will be killing time like a convict. I have ‘delivered my message’ to woman #1 (of two) and had it figuratively received well, ie in action but not a word of reply to it. The action was she is still around, nothing more of course! Fuck it, I can’t think of any more. Of course I turn out paintings, articles, radio calls and photos continually but that’s like breathing as long as I’m fit. I am phoning Sky 1 tomorrow as the latest schedule is out, and a date there would help a lot as I’d have one thing to look forward to before I’m almost 50. The other as I said is early 2007 but that’s fine as it’s a small channel few would notice in this country though it means everything to me regardless. My ambitions are so normal (plus fame) that everyone else gets them so easily I’m not expecting too much. The odd thing is fame is pretty hard for most people, many want it but I doubt many end up with it. I am just over half way there myself, which was totally from my own efforts. I had my first drama classes at 14, more from 17-19 and performed on and off since then. I contacted someone regarding working in my field as a volunteer and the only benefit I hoped for was going on TV, which happened 5 years later. That is what I call very long groundwork and am not actually famous yet. But in the business sense there are no exams needed and you just push and push till you find someone who wants you.

So, I’ve discovered all this spare time was there so I could learn and possibly teach. Well definitely, but so far only for helping my clients and writing the odd article. Happiness? Does that have to be separate or does it come once you’ve learned what you needed to? I can only find out now by waiting.