Monday, July 31, 2006


Another day another bottom dollar

I’ve often wondered exactly what a bottom dollar is. But to me it sounds good and creates the image of someone pushing out a dollar from their arse, which has to be a positive picture to anyone like me.

Well I was so tired today (chicken pox/gym visit /serious heart disease/ incurable blood disorder/ FK) I think FK is probably the verdict with or without a blood test. As I said, delighted if they find nothing but not in any hurry to look. So I have FA to report besides some positive shifts on the email front. On the internet it’s so much easier to become paranoid, and I realised yesterday I’d waited 4 weeks for a reply from someone and realised it was my turn. I just didn’t check. So easily done and she probably thinks now I don’t care. So easy to get the wrong messages. But you learn the system and adapt.

As on many Mondays, I take the liberty (based on my diary) to look ahead. More so as sod all else has happened. I’m free outside a few work appointments so far, and will begin more TV date enquiries which may provide a date in one case. I have also a second date pencilled in after the last so I clearly haven’t done that badly despite not getting much of a response but that was hardly a surprise considering how rare men speak out and tell women how they feel. She probably almost had a heart attack when I told her though skated over the comment just as slickly as any cabinet minister questioned by Jeremy Paxman. But the fact she’s still around is the best indirect answer I could have hoped for.

The trouble is now my main concern is returning my health. Whatever it takes will do and the fact I felt OK later yesterday means it’s possible. Now it’s clear to all I’m one of those people who sees the worst possible outcomes in any situation, especially my own health, and also know most of the afflictions intimately from a library I began as soon as I could read with a book my parents had. Persistent unexplained tiredness can be one of many insidious and usually untreatable conditions but also long term exhaustion. I certainly have had all it took for that, but it won’t shift, though a dose of virus could quite logically still be causing it. I can only wait and see.

I don’t want it to repeat itself every week! Same routine with or without extra stress, little or no good news and end up where I was 7 days ago. Out of our hands, miracles are. It doesn’t take a lot. A knife’s edge situation most times. So many decisions, so few that go my way. We got a London mayor, and then not once but twice it was Ken Livingstone, the reincarnation of Stalin but without the sense of humour. We passed Maastricht by one vote. Each one of these life changing decisions was so close it was touch and go till the votes were counted. Same with my life. Thank god I had just enough sense to add enough marks per exam to pass all of them first or second time. That was up to me. But passing a female’s exam doesn’t require lessons or revision. My friend applied for visas for America that needed two years of advice to apply for, and even then it was one of the less easy ones to not only get but renew, both of which he got easily. The best decision was my cat’s to come back for food the second time running after she ate another cat’s food I left out for him. But animals are usually sensible and logical. They know who to trust a lot better than we do, I’ve been let down by more than enough people (including my own mother) so have hardly a very good track record for predicting other’s actions. I don’t even expect the worst, I expect nothing. I’ve even tripped up academics and experts often enough to see they knew enough to pass their exams but not understand everything they work at. That’s not my education, that’s my native intuition. I have a few little tests even I am amazed work but are not suitable for the internet. It just proves we know many things naturally before we’ve learnt the evidence for them. Even my counselling is based on native logic which I honed by study. But I knew what to do and the weirdest thing is people have come to me with their problems since I was 13.

So not just me, but people who hardly know me come up to me and say they just know I’ll be able to help, and certainly don’t know it’s my job. That, evidence wise, does prove the ability should be universal as they are doing exactly what I do, knowing something intuitively. The academic world can’t handle it, they say ‘prove it’ and I rarely can. This goes above and beyond science, it’s a level of knowing reported by many mystics and anathema to science who believe it should be impossible. What else could be possible? People in other dimensions telling us this stuff? We don’t directly access the Akashic records but get a go between who is literally our spirit guide, not to protect us (that would only happen in heaven) but teach us stuff we can’t learn here or may take far too long? But if they already know it why not just tell us the lot and save us working it out? Let’s cut the corners if they aren’t really there and let us reach our true potential. Start with my health and then why I’m alone, then life outside our dimensions and finally enlightenment. Something more than the known is real, but how much more will I be able to find out?

Sunday, July 30, 2006

New attitudes

Interesting. I don’t know whether the new (though as old as me) book I’ve just started just gave me a bit of a push, but all the inadequacy and guilt over the last year or so seems to have gone. I don’t think I’m inadequate, it was all an illusion. Probably one made by society, that if you don’t have a job or can do anything other people do you’re no bloody good. But looking at some of the great performers in all areas no one cared and often even knew their personal problems and hang-ups, maybe with the exception of Jonathon King and Gary Glitter.

Besides those rich enough not to need to work (come on, who wouldn’t want to) there are a few people not conforming with the norm, and if it wasn’t essential to have a roof over your heads to work full time such alternatives could become the norm. Most people work as they’re forced to by circumstances. They assume it’s essential but those poor sods I know with mental and physical problems who haven’t worked for years, surprisingly have not a shred of guilt. One lied to her fiancĂ© she had a job (and got away with it) but he was the exception to her embarrassment, or lack of it. He on the other hand owned a garage and sounded like a total wanker. She was a bit soppy and boring but looked the business, and mainly never took off between us as she wasn’t on the phone and lived almost abroad (Wimbledon). The friend who introduced us was the age I am now (this was 15 years ago) and had to give up work after a breakdown, saying at 40 she’d retired. As long as the doctor agreed she probably has managed to. But I respected her more than many people. Why? Because she lived on her own. To me, in our incredibly comfortable family house with cooks and cleaners (OK, parents, OK, one parent) managing alone was more valuable than a full time job. To me nearly everyone shared when they left home to soon become married. Those poor sods who missed out, job or no job, did and still do get my respect. The only reason I don’t work is simply no one wanted me. In the end I gave up trying and then my health made a job the last thing on my agenda.

So my mission now is to accept and be proud of being different but equal to the sheep. Not because they do what everyone else does, but because they believe it’s the only way. I hope and wish unemployment becomes in the 8 figures as soon as possible and people are forced to get back to a more natural way of life. With various jobs moving abroad and others being taken by the massive influx of new European Union members the jobs have to start declining, and if the oil and gas runs out many industries couldn’t carry on. But that’s so far ahead I’d be on (no I wouldn’t, I never paid the contributions, well my boss didn’t) I’d be a pensioner anyway. So I have to live my own alternative now, but starting with myself have turned the tide of disapproval. I no longer disapprove of myself, and now will not care about others. Having something as simple as chicken pox proves how impossible it is to override a genuine illness. Now chronic fatigue makes you feel exactly the same, so much so until the spots came out I didn’t realise I was ill, I just thought it had got worse as usually it comes and goes but it became consistent. If you have no energy and you ‘force yourself’ you will become worse, and the worse you get the less you can do until it becomes a form pf paralysis. Been there done that got the mental scars. But no more. The only element needed now is the woman who doesn’t give a shit and wants me and not what I can or can’t do as even I never know from moment to moment.

So I have shifted the attitude. I will see what follows and added to the fact I realised I can’t make myself do anything if I’m not well enough and there’s no clue how long that will last I am forced into my alternative way of life in the dustbin just as much as the son of a billionaire has in the jet set. I’ll say one thing, had I that much money I’d have a private doctor visit, take a blood and heart test just in case there is something behind it. I reckon if there was I’d be in hospital by now but you never quite know, I learnt medicine from books most of my life and unfortunately chronic fatigue is a symptom of many conditions, from anaemia (my fingernails are red so doubt it), hypoglycaemia (no idea) to heart problems (unlikely if I can do an hour in the gym). I’ve had a few trips to the doctor who said besides a blood test he thought from what he could see it was tachycardia and I have the pills for it. Still tired half the time though. Without a virus. So I’d have every test going, and if they found there was nothing wrong that alone would probably make me feel better, and if not, even if incurable at least I could tell people a name. Chronic fatigue isn’t an illness, it’s like a headache, a symptom. I just haven’t the will to get it checked any more unless forced to, which is not on my plans.
I may have a collection of crap but my blog lets me organise it better. I now have nice parallel lines of crap with numbers on them and coloured labels. What a load of crap…

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Free speech

Another day, but what can I tell you about it? No energy today, I spent 3 hours in the online quiz and now have to get everything ready before I go to my Dad's. Even if the house was burning down I think I'd have to post on my blog before I left with the computer under my arm, it's as if there's something I have to say and though I now have no idea who reads it (besides two people) I will carry on. Popularity. That's a good one. I wonder what I do or don't do that makes people come and go. I know what makes me come and go, when someone used to write about their life and their blog has now more or less become taken over by one subject.
Mind you I still read, often hoping they've changed the subject, but it's not entertaining any more. I haven't got one subject that takes over whatever I start writing, I used to go on about enlightenment but once I met Nick Roach it started making more sense. OK, some people get so comfortable with a single issue it takes over their mind for months or more, but I can't think of anything that interesting, if there was I'd probably be doing it instead of this.

Otherwise my direct approach puts me on par with Jesus (as told by a Christian), so you are either with me or against me, apparently. But my disciples (my arse) have been leaving in droves. I admit should any of my third world neighbours learn English and become friendly I may change my opinion of them as individuals. The other side of overcrowding is not their fault, our government actively let them in and look after them so it's their fault, Australia has 100 times the space but refuses to let almost anyone in. Apart from the Poles who are usually very much like the English it just happens the latest influx has either been criminal or so isolated they have nothing in common with anyone outside their own community. It takes years to assimilate and learn English even if you want to, so although maybe in ten years the same people who huddle in crowds in the streets and waiting rooms of North London speaking a strange language wearing black sheets will begin to mix with everyone else. But until then it's not surprising it makes me feel just a little bit uncomfortable. I have no idea what the people are like, and that's half the problem, they can't express themselves or get to know us as they don't speak English very much at the moment. Anyway, I have tried to explain what may have been controversial and at least one person here agreed with me. And sadly when the children of those people are born here and openly express contempt for the locals as I described before it just makes me even more cynical.

But I'm far far more concerned with the overcrowding than who the people are. So far none of them has stolen from me, but hundreds if not thousands have waited in interminable queues in front of me over the ten years I've lived here, and as I said, that's our government's fault as they choose to allow millions of new arrivals in almost regardless, unless they're American and didn't have the right paperwork. That will get you deported in a week, it proves they can do it.
I hope I've cleared that point up as far as I can but those who left probably won't ever read it, but it's here in case they do. It is the highest concetration of immigrants in the country here so if anyone starts complaining it'll be likely to be in Brent. So we get labelled as racists until some wise guy actually visits the area and can't believe it.

But I've spent all my life speaking my mind. I actually think about what I say before I decide to say it and am always prepared to change my mind or justify it. Like anyone in the media I try and make sure I'm not breaking the law first and if not, fuck public opinion. Most of the public don't get that many things and if someone doesn't point them out over and over again they'll take all the crap the politicians give them and accept it blindly. Of course the sea level's rising. About half an inch a year. Very dangerous. Of course the world temperature is rising, 0.6' a century. That'll have the coconuts growing in Trafalgar Square in about 4500. If you look behind the headlines so much is lies and so easy to find. I use my intuition. If something sounds wrong it nearly always is. And years of training and education to get my facts right means I can't rely on intuition (even though it's usually right) but then have to research it to make sure people believe me. If you saw the stuff I don't write here you'd probably crap yourselves. I can break nearly every taboo on earth, and still use the golden rule 'Do as to others as they would do to you'.

My rules are based on allowing freedom. Morals be damned, every country in the world has different laws based on the morals of the day they were written (Queen Victoria in our case), and they are all based on fear, imagination and control. Why do they allow smoking and alcohol and not heroin? Either drugs are bad or they're not. But they make money from the legal ones although alcohol and tobacco kill more people than illegal drugs and global warming. They are full of shit and have an axe to grind. I haven't. I see through it and tell as many people as I can. They say 'Prove it'. I do my best but the evidence isn't conclusive or they wouldn't use the threads of truth in their stories that make the rest look true as well. The temperature is rising/ SO it's going to rise even more X and it's our fault X. See what I mean. They make it all up to suit them, the energy companies are coming in their pants with the huge prices they charge to keep usage down, and we are being trodden on like ants. It's my money they use, my energy bills (not for the car but the house) are about 3 times higher than a year ago. That's because of global warming and unregulated businesses. The tax the government get from these huge amounts makes them push prices as high as they can as then it subsidises what they give back to the masses to keep their votes. But they ripped it off us in the first place to give it back! Ican see it, why can't everyone else?

I won't give up, I am technically being selfish as all this crap affects me but I would feel just as bad even if it didn't. Would you like your life to be as easy as possible or as hard? As I said yesterday, in say 1970 life was relatively easy. No mobile phones, computers, satellite TV but everything else was fine and what we didn't know we didn't miss. Life was pretty good. Of course all the technology would have been nice as well but we didn't care. And if you do want to cack your pants, don't imagine the things I can't say here but look up world population graphs and that should do it. It certainly did for me, where's the paper?

Friday, July 28, 2006

Bits of rubbish

Thank goodness I only have one little job out to do which can wait, the other two have been done and I have the rest of the day to relax (the germs have given me a bit of a kick today) before I go to my mum's later. I felt a lot better yesterday so what did I do? I went to bed at 3.30. Not clever.

So, my 'system' remains slowly shifting, like everything else in life. Probably at a geological rate in my case, but the date did happen, I gave her my clear message of intent and the ball's now in her court. I can't do any more where she's concerned. Otherwise I have a long list of little jobs to do around the house/garden which can be done whenever I want, and due to lack of alternatives am now focused on waiting to hear when I'll next be on TV.
I've also been talking about enlightenment, and decided that even in Nick Roach's abstract description happiness has to be in there somewhere, or at least inner peace. No one could ever be the slightest bit interested in it otherwise, though admittedly if the truth is we are one then you can't help being enlightened in the only way possible, but within the dream the pleasure experiences described by others would be preferable, unless they really are aspects of the same thing seen through different people.

If I feel OK I haven't got anything to complain about today, but I will say I seem to be deserted by my two best friends at Funtrivia, one often vanishes as she's very busy but not the other. If either of you are still reading, which is probably unlikely or you wouldn't have vanished, what have I done? Apart from rants about having to live in an overpopulated sewer which used to be a middle class London suburb, which just about anyone who'd seen the area decline over 40 years, nothing. It's not just London, everywhere's gone the same way in their proportion, we are just the leaders. If I was married I may move away simply to avoid the queues and crowds, though I have no idea what it would be like living in the middle of nowhere or how far from London I'd need to go before I found it. Of course if I was a millionaire I'd move to the oasis of Hampstead Garden Suburb, but unless someone sees me on TV and decides to make me a star that won't happen.

I do wonder if the feelings of waiting to 'get somewhere' will last all my life? They started when I was living at home and wanted to share a house with people my own age and the opposite sex. Ten or so years later I did and it was crap. I realised getting strangers to share your house for money wasn't the same as marriage to them, and after some years earning (and losing) a little rent I packed that in and became a total hermit rather than share with weirdos. I thought once I was qualified I'd feel settled, but that just took the edge off the worst of it and didn't get me an actual job after a couple of years trying though a few clients could only come if I was. It simply shows planning your life ahead and expecting it to happen because you planned it is a fantasy. Life moves you, if you do your best it's just like putting a coin in a fruit machine. You do your bit, expend your energy and it's out of your hands like an exam. We write them, others mark them. We make plans, work for them and others fulfil them.

I'm sure if I was put back to where I was before my mum left, when we lived in our first and second houses and apart from being an only child was perfectly happy, I'd feel like I'd made it. Enlightenment is the equivalent of contentment on a spiritual level I believe, which isn't dependent on circumstances. As Maharaji says, if you rely on the unreliable (outside circumstances) you can never be content. Look for the contentment within and then whatever happens outside is of secondary importance. That's why I've been on this road for 10 years and can only see any possible escape that way besides getting the woman of my dreams into bed. Through blogging I've realised there really is nothing wrong with me that would put a woman off, and on Thursday they have a programme with 3 guys like me learning to pick up women despite being pretty physically unappealing. I've also seen people with every level of mental problems and most of them were married so it covers every fault I can imagine I may have, but who doesn't?

Well that's about it. Two lives. Mine and the one I wanted. No wonder I dwell on the past. Nearly anything and everything I want now is only in memories. When the cars were Ford Populars and Zephyrs. Trains used little card tickets, music wasn't connected with disco dancing, modern houses were modern, traffic lights had white stripes on the poles (when did they go?), Routemaster buses drove throughout London, my friends all lived within ten minutes walk, I had all my relatives alive, they still made Carry On films, money was worth something and we had something called shillings, petrol only cost shillings a gallon, and we had gallons not litres, I had all my hair, you could park anywhere outside the centre of London free, and the kids didn't imitate the lowest of the low scum criminal types to be cool. Things not only can be good, but we had it and lost it. It's all going backwards now. We may have fantastic new technology but if all it does is allow kids to walk the streets saying 'innit, safe, wicked' on mobile phones up and down the country, adults to do the same while driving with one hand on the wheel, and send pictures of each other's cocks on them it really isn't worth the tradeoff. Like the great cultures of Greece and Rome went into decline, this one is,but I suspect it's not just Britain, it's worldwide. Now do you understand why I complain?

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Little steps

I'm making little steps back into the real world after 2 weeks of constant lack of energy with chicken pox. Second little essential shopping trip, and I'm having to limit my efforts to one at a time, especially as it's still 30C indoors (what's that, 86?) but so humid it would have the same effect on many people.
So I have a little freedom now, the little work I had this week was cut by other's germs, so am now left to my own devices. I was wondering if it was a good idea to waste about 4 cartridges, 100 sheets of printer paper and print my whole blog regardless. Up till now I print my favourites but leave most as a record of what I've done rather than anything entertaining or informative. I doubt I will, unless some office volunteers to do it using their equipment.

Meanwhile I ought to be meditating more, I am at least once a week which at least is regular, as that is my only true doorway out of hell. I say hell, imagine the Big Brother house but with no one else there, a free but relatively uninviting outside world with little beyond relatives and photographic scenes to attract me out into it and an assortment of health problems and hell is a pretty appropriate description. My house is probably exactly as I'd want it (though another room would help) and would prefer a more upmarket area but indoors I'm at home and pretty much as I was in other houses before. But knowing my writing is appreciated makes a huge difference since someone said how funny my other blog was. From all the descriptions of my efforts, funny is the highest praise and greatest aim. Even in therapy if you make a client laugh it distracts them from their problems. If I could fart at will a new method could be in the testing stages. It would certainly make me laugh if my therapist farted.

I certainly have no problems making kids laugh, it's not as complex as adults as you just find a few key words and you're the man. Piles, poo, manure, caca. A simple formula which rarely fails to deliver. I didn't even think it was funny until I was nagged to repeat my performance on holiday the following year and after a week of simple nursery words I got stuck in the realm of the mental toilet again. But it's a simple formula and seems to work as well now as it did then. Who knows why.
So having all this spare time alone makes me wonder. The physical force of inertia that says that things tend to stay as they are without an outside force. In my case an outside force is either personal or financial. Personal would mean my box, ie this house, would not be one of total isolation. Besides a few visitors including for work I am as isolated as would ever be possible outside a lighthouse on a rock in the sea. Everyone living alone can have visitors but they come and then go, just as my friends did when I was at school. I fantasise about how this could change, and oddly the most practical (but impossible) idea would be to rent my spare room as office space. They did this where I used to work by having a huge building and then renting the rooms they didn't need. This would provide a daily visitor or more to use my house, have their food in my kitchen and generally mean the house wasn't only mine. Of course they'd probably lock the room when they were away, but despite being supposed to work in the time they were here at least would probably talk to me as well and I can always listen to their phone calls if desperate...

This is the devil speaking to the prisoner who has nothing to do but think of ways to escape. It's tragic, and my visitor yesterday would be one route to a solution had she shared my feeling I have for her. Maybe she does, I have yet to discover. Two main aims, good sex and good meditation, body and soul. They overlap as if one is good the others improve as well. If I got more from it I'd be back meditating an hour minimum a day again, it means nothing what's going on outside, when you meditate you return to the same place which withdraws you from your environment and puts you in the same place wherever you may be physically. But no method works suddenly except in the rarest of cases, and whatever yoga I do (for that is the general category of the practises) it won't happen overnight. After those two aims, the next are fame and qualifications. I don't think I can add to my qualifications now, there would only be a masters degree or professional qualification, at great effort and expense and it's only being greedy wanting more even though the masters I started was the only course I ever took I understood as I picked subjects I did well in already. But fame is my next doorway, and can bring almost everything you want with it, people, women and money.

Even without stepping foot in a studio (though I dream of it regularly) I can perform from right here and do, and hope press interest eventually follows the TV showings. Writing about results from hypnosis and therapy would be well paid and raise my profile no end. I think the smaller articles get at least £100, and you can build this up to quite a decent income. I've had 2 years of practice writing here under every possible condition, and now have material waiting in me to come out daily (in a good way) as there is a combination of past events and existing knowledge to draw on indefinitely, combined with a TV like memory which allows me to recreate many events in the past almost as if I was there. That and a few fart jokes and it could all be sewn up.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Oi, look at this!

As if controlled by an outside force, my life moves in strange twists and turns totally beyond my control. I catch a virus then I get a visitor. I have no say for either, one good and one bad, like Lucy the cat they turn up when they choose and the only element with Lucy was whether I fed her, which technically is no choice at all if a cat chooses to live with you. But the weird thing is though I have now been told of predictions of fate years in advance, even seeing events ahead, via an alteration in what we would call time, doesn't make any of those events apparently meaningful.
Today I admit to learning a few lessons. One, don't let any woman you see socially think it's just going to be as friends. If you want them you have to make it clear from day one or they just let it drift until you make a move and they tell you to piss off. And then I had to learn patience, in that once I'd sent my message was told whatever the outcome I'd have to wait. If you saw what I'd be waiting for you'd understand how the lesson was well taken, as if there's a chance I'll win the prize I will wait a long time.

Delay is a feature in my life which can't be any more than others surely, but drives me up the fucking wall at times. Especially when there's no time scale. At present I have vague ones for the TV (1 and 6 months or so, officially at least) probable for my friend's return to England (almost 3 years so that's a dead in the water), none for the female interest and literally nothing else seen in advance. The email replies have again either not arrived or taken much longer than expected, none are very important but it's bloody annoying when simple questions take weeks or more to be answered. Microsoft are easily the worst as their last reply was automated and though took a couple of weeks all they did was fire a prepared email saying the same as the one I'd replied to, ie 'It's nothing to do with us'. It is! After they told me on the phone my error message was an error, then it's down to them to fix it. They'll get their karma. Bastards.

So looking ahead has to go out the window. I must focus on now and ignore any silly stuff I can't predict or deal with until and unless it happens. Otherwise I wonder if I went out of my way to offend people I could do worse than I do when I'm not trying. I also reckon the fact most of the blogs I read have dried up besides one who never comments here anyway means I don't have any reminders that I'm around like I used to. Most of the blogs left are such crap I struggle even finding a post from 2006. Though it's free and fun most bloggers here have long since given up, and besides the few on my links turn out teenage crap (regardless of actual age), links and reviews of stuff I can read about anywhere else or see in the shops. I too could do a toothpaste review (3 types of Colgate, plusses and minusses) but the closest I got was in English class where we had to do such stuff to practice our reporting skills. Vagina reviews would be preferable but would require at least one vagina in order to do so, and then I'd be unlikely to have so much time to blog anyway. What would most men prefer to do?

Yes, I love vulgarity. Not rude words, I picked that up here, I rarely do in person. But pure filth, as taught by my mum's friends when at an early age, is my territory. Fanny farts, wet fanny farts, vaginal deodorants, skid marks, anal inspections, follow throughs, enemas, suppositories, trouser coughs, premature ejaculation, stress incontinence, bowel movements, excreta, dung, droppings, dog's business, piles, weeping piles, pendulous labia, embarrassing itching, threadworms, light spotting and discharge. That's my kind of filth. Where there's muck there's laughs. Manure, mucus, meconium (look it up), snot, smegma, phlegm and pre-ejaculate. It's all here and if being politically incorrect didn't put everyone off I'm sure this will finish the job I started. Who knows, that or make me a folk hero. Fucked if I know either way...


It's been a while since I posted any more amazing names (mainly as I'd run out) but a guest on the radio just mentioned Winston Bygrave, the same name as an English teacher I met at a job interview once, and reminded me of another even better one who I saw just before then, the great Barrington Belgrave (Bazza) who came on as a substitute for Southend United v Rochdale in January 2003. He is now in the non-league doldrums but had I been offered a chance to change my name for a TV career Barrington Belgrave would be near the top of my list. Any more classics please add in the comments, thanks.

Back already

Why can't I do script here like I do on all my other places? Surely not too much to expect? Anyway, the day is now almost over, and went pretty well after 2 weeks of constant illness. I did my first little errand this afternoon very easily, though didn't try any more and having to get up for an appointment earlier meant by 7 PM I felt like I'd been up for a whole day when in fact I hadn't. But it's gradually improving and I hope to do another essential job or two tomorrow once I have the time.
I've done 3 lots of Funtrivia challenges today (resets every 6 hours) and have finally bumped my average up after a slump raising a division, as the questions get harder. The crap I have learnt is growing, and means my Mastermind and University Challenge scores get the odd boost when a question I just did (Cruciferae for example) then appears on a TV quiz where I answer along with the contestants. Little practical use but impresses people in quizzes.

Meanwhile my beard is over a week old and actually looks OK. I will probably remove it for a certain person in case it shocks her but now I know how it looks may let it grow back. Making someone look 'old' at 46 is hardly an innacuracy. It's about a 50-50 black and white mix in patches and as a result looks more like the fur of a cat or horse than a person. What's that, you want to see, hold on... It's here!

I must say when I looked in the mirror and thought I saw David Baddiel I got a surprise, but he's got a cracking girlfriend and if it works for him...

Tuesday, July 25, 2006


Besides sharing and hopefully entertaing people I realised writing here is doing exactly the same as therapy with no one to answer. I work things out myself. For instance since I haven't had a job, I imagined each other thing I did was to compensate for it, so what happens, I can't do a thing in the end. Then I look back and saw things I did that were easy didn't appear to count unless they were a challenge. Like in my degree some exams were like I'd lifted 100 kilos to pass, others seemed like a quick press up to get even better marks. It's a human twist that we often don't feel we've done well unless it was bloody difficult, so what happens, we get bloody difficult situations until it ruins our health and we realise the trap we've fallen in.
I've got nothing to prove, and only one woman to prove it to, if she wants me. Whoever she may be. But I must learn not to see anything I do as representing any more value than itself as we are only capable of doing what we can when we can, and as one theory says just being human is the hardest thing we can do.

Today went well actually, I did my first (single) trip to the shops since the spots came out over a week ago with no real effort, and have had enough time to start the other little jobs indoors that need doing with no pressure. Otherwise I will just carry on and not expect anything either way. One thing I have stopped trying to teach anyone anything besides my clients who come to be helped. Learning new tricks myself is enough, and it's a miracle if and when anything helps me, it's not my job to lecture the world in how to live with less stress, if they want to know they'll have to ask me first.
So now I can do some quizzes, send some money to pay my bills (those gas prices have become criminal) and I'm now paying the same in the summer as I used to pay for the winter. Any extra money I get will just go to pay the gas bills now. I was meant to be working now but someone has the flu, so it's the computer for me. The hot weather and my succession of visitors who would belong quite happily in the Miss World parade has turned my mind to kinky sex. Like the usual but with tomato sauce, metaphorically speaking.

My fear of rejection reaches just far enough not to mention details here. If anyone actually cares what I like doing (as do most women) they can ask me privately, but I'd sure rather be doing it now than blogging. I have an old friend who I tested it all out on many years ago and she still pops round occasionally for some practice, but I need more than that. I will add I am that aware of women's erogenous zones I make a point of making them enjoy the experience and get much of my pleasure from theirs. Tantra knows all this lot and Barry Long is one place to read if you want to know more, he also taught Nick Roach so has quite a bit of authority. He missed a few of my favourite aspects but others make up for it in their teachings. I could happily start a second blog devoted to nothing else but besides being incredibly repetitive it wouldn't fulfil the actual practical side, though hopefully it would inspire some more people to add some adventure to their routine.

Despite dropping various ambitions, should the unimaginable happen and the mass media take me seriously, I'd be very happy to sit on Parkinson talking about sex play and making fart jokes. I always wanted to address the world with anything I can say or do, and of course potentially I am now, all 50 of you (excepting repeat visits per day). That would be all 8 of you apparently but the figures go over my head. I have taboos even Frank Skinner and Chubby Brown haven't introduced into their routines I'd be only to happy to release on TV or Wembley Stadium (if it opens), I may get lynched for it but I'll die both famous and inspire millions of couples to discover a lot more about what nature provided for us but we tend to pass over. Well I don't, but I was taught by experts myself. I think Havelock Ellis covered many of these decades ago but remained within the professional area and pretty much ignored by the public. But know it or not, all this is available to everyone now if they know where to look. Trust me, it's worth the trip!

Monday, July 24, 2006

Blimey O Reilly!

Two weeks of chicken pox. The spots have lost their battle but the germs are apparently keeping me down. They can't last much longer. I don't think anyone's had any virus for 7 years so something should improve sooner or later. I can't dwell on it generally, you just feel like it's normal (after 2 weeks it's hardly a surprise) and will never feel different. God forbid.

I can't report a bloody thing since yesterday, but being confined to barracks blogging is one of my many options I can still take up. I have stories though. No present but plenty of past. Little nearly as much as I wanted by some was nice, just lacking that peak experience so many others manage but nearly always eluded me. The first 21 years were as a family, and as close to decent as it got. Being an only child I was never fully happy as I knew what I was missing, and then I stopped growing at the height of a 14 year old so had to get used to that for the rest of my life.
But nothing unusual and beyond overcoming. Then my mother left, and I spent another 12 years in and out of the family house until it was sold.
I was ready for marriage once I got my degree out of the way. But as I took so long everyone else was paired up once I was again let free on London's scene. I spent a few years with agencies and met bitter and twisted divorcees in their 40s and mad single women who could never hold down a relationship. Back then my energy and nerves were relatively normal. I would eat out but only selected places and literally travelled the world. A bit like a great performer who retires at least I feel I did that lot so have no need to continue.

When I moved into my first flat in 1988 the first thing that struck me was there were only my own things there. After 28 years I was alone. That hit me hard and since I finally left the old place for good that is how it remained besides a few tenants who were mainly worse than nothing. I know some people are happy to be alone. Some people are happy to starve and be at war as well so I've been told but I wouldn't recommend either. It sucks and anyone who says it doesn't either lived for years with crowded families or a tyrant or is lying like a dog. Be honest guys, having to live alone is not fun and it can't be. If your wife doesn't like you leaving stuff on the table, move it. Big deal. I may be able to fart when I like, but no one appreciates it either. And any wife that objects to you farting should get used to it. All this freedom crap is just that. You have no freedom in a desert. You have no obligations and no activities. And what freedom have you got doing all the housework and shopping yourself? None. Or earning the money to do so? Freedom? That's hell, no less. Not being able to share anything? It's like having your hands tied behind your back. I could be given a job for some charity that should exist but doesn't spreading the truth about living alone so people can come out and be honest. It's not freedom it's the worst form of encarceration there is outside actual prison. Coming home to exactly how you left the house a minute or a year earlier every time (unless the cat has left a present, which no one else will clean up) is demoralising to the ultimate.

So every time you hear someone say they like living alone, see in huge lights above their head the word 'LIAR' as it's almost bound to be bullshit. I am an authority on both my studies, my interests and my experiences, and finding a woman in London and living alone are two of my experiences few if any people can know more about. When hearing a voice from the house next door is the highlight of the month you know you're in deep deep caca.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Sunday's neuroses

This is a fascinating exercise in neurosis. What I’m wondering now is who I’m trying to impress with my achievements, and I reckon besides proving to myself the weird and diverse health problems I’ve been having won’t stop me having a life, it’s the woman in my life (position currently vacant) who is the sole person who really matters as far as their opinion of me. I have been ranking anything I’ve done recently for lack of anything better to do, and would really be pleased to be reporting major successes rather than list a few chances ahead, where if one happens it’ll be a miracle.
So far the last reported success was 3rd of March with my first speaking role on TV, albeit seen by the odd anorak and someone who couldn’t work out how to use their channel changer and got it by accident. Plus maybe many more people in India now which is something but none can bump into me in Church Lane and recognise me from TV. It’s the same story as I was given years ago by a typical representative of a woman who used me based on my obvious interest. That was the one area of wisdom that helped me, despite enjoying a week touring South Devon with her, dancing in a pub, eating a takeaway in the car and taking her to the laundry, prior to the trip to her mother in Poole when she said goodbye and never contacted me again. Her pearl of wisdom was that I was unhappy as I had the things I needed but not the things I wanted. Now I have less, as my health is unreliable and doesn’t allow many other things. Hence the challenges to achieve. In the past, like many other people, I could spend a day travelling and working and not notice it. It’s only when you go wrong physically anything becomes a challenge and you no longer trust your body in any situation. Now anything I do makes me think, well, at least I could do that today, will I be able to again?

Admittedly as long as one single woman accepts these limitations I can survive under these circumstances. Within my limits few can tell I’m any different. I am the same person and if feeling OK even better than usual. But it’s out of my hands, all I can do is learn from it and discover how many disabilities one can have while still managing to get things done. Anyway, that is why I look forward and back and try and get as much on the board as possible, as I really appreciate anything I do now as I can’t take any of it for granted.

On yesterday’s theme, my statement was confirmed by two Indian callers on the radio, a woman who said their families would disown them if they went out with an English man, and a man who said his friends criticised him for mixing with English people, saying he should mix with his own. Now THAT is racism, and it certainly offended me. Both were born here, but the second caller said none felt this was their country. This is what I mean about being neutral or negative to their host country. They see themselves as outsiders and have little or no interest in anyone except their own people. This shows a total lack of respect, and that my attitude is one of reaction, not hostility. QED, yet again.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Who knows?

I'm certainly being groomed for being in the present. I am in a rare position of a clear diary besides the usual work commitments. It still reminds me of putting on a new nappy and wondering when it'll be full of shit as it inevitably will be (OK or pee), but that is many years of negative programming, and whenever I was the totally naive optimist I was nearly always disappointed. But neither views are right, you have to ignore the future altogether (besides planning ahead). It is like death, ahead and out of our control. So it has to die. Nothing that involves putting our imagination a second or more in the future is sensible or useful. We all start with the tendency, and I am losing it with effort. My mind at least has now accepted there's no value in looking ahead, now the habit has to die as a result.

I can, however, pretend certain things could happen as an exercise in fiction, as long as I don't imagine it's going to be real. I say this as since yesterday I've only been on the computer when awake so can't exactly say very much. I still wonder about offending people (not that it's my problem as my views are my business and I never attack anyone personally) and when a fellow blogger's views offended me I sent him an email and he clearly didn't mean the sentence to have come out as it did. People are rarely as evil as we think they are from their writing as we don't usually check out their true motives as I did. And nothing I say is that unusual, the influx of third world migrants we've had is a local issue and anyone who isn't in that position should only criticise after it happens where they live and they see whether or not it affects them the same way it does here. Few places are like London. Basically take any social problem and magnify it by 5 and that's how it is here. Whatever the new maps tell you we're still the biggest urban area in the world regardless of population and having expanded widthwise are now copying the others by cramming them in to the areas already populated. Day by day houses and businesses are demolished to make way for Soviet style blocks, housing many times the number of people in the same spaces just like Moscow or Mexico City. But unlike those places our roads were made when the date had 3 numbers and the fastest thing on it would be a greyhound. Our roads were in place before the great fire in 1666 and to save money were retained to rebuild the city as quickly as possible. Any newer roads were following existing tracks and local objections made sure few were more than two lanes to guarantee speeds averaging 12 mph London wide, last time I looked.

But my views are, as I said, pretty typical of half the Londoners I know, but they wouldn't dare reveal them to anyone but the converted, while I have always believed in converting the others. Like Jesus (so I've been told) that will always open me up to the wrath of the believers in the old ways, and lose many friends as a result. Like I judge my friends on their politics. One is a communist, another (male) is a feminist. So what. I ignore politics with one and deliberately make jokes to the other. If they wanted to string up homosexuals (as I think another does) I couldn't really care unless it was aimed at me. In fact that person is virtually a Nazi, but somehow realised (probably from mixing with Jews all his life) it's not the Jews he has a problem with. If he did I would have to ditch him, as I could hardly not take that personally. And not being racist it really isn't fair to pick on any race as being inferior. The fact so many people I know sound and act English until you see them shows their race doesn't affect their being that much. The fact each group has good or bad is obvious, but then you hear members of the very groups I pick on and they say exactly the same thing, ie those particular representatives give them a bad name. A Jamaican teacher said the reason we have all the drug, gun and knife crime round here is not because they are Jamaican, but many the gangsters left Jamaica as they could do better here, so we ended up with their worst families. Combine that with the genuine racism where many employers don't give anyone ethnic a job and it makes the situation a lot worse. That is human nature unfortunately and all I do is report it.

So why despite my counter jogging along as normal a few people seem to have deserted me, and if so won't be reading this to question them, which is a nuisance, though emails have been sent in some cases. Meanwhile I'll end by speculating on the week ahead but in a positive way like I did before I realised it was unrealistic.

I do expect my lady friend at last, but can't speculate on the outcome. My friend from holiday has not replied a week later so that is off the system. Sky One should have the next schedule in 10 days but again what is on it remains a mystery. I wonder if one of the next 4 emails comes so will the others, that happens so often I now expect it. Unless there's a disaster I see a week of rest ahead, combined with long delayed housework. More gardening as always, and that's about it. Actually besides only one reply and one today (which was actually automated as it didn't address a word of my email I sent them) it's a virtual clone of this week but hopefully without the virus. That's why it never pays to speculate. Just because the same is usually repeated ad infinitum, it isn't the law. Though there isn't much else to do any more so does limit things a lot, maybe one new element could arrive, though not my friend who won't be back before 2009 and then probably 30 miles away from here. Now maybe if I disable the comment facility again people will appreciate it. You have been warned. Next time it's not coming back so easily.

Friday, July 21, 2006

A little bit of politics on a Friday

Sometimes things happen. My friend emailed from America, the woman I have been waiting for is on her way here sooner or later (hopefully next week) and the next Sky schedule comes out in 2 weeks, which may or may not have my programme in it. The week since my spots came out has been a mixture, I reckon I did half of what I normally do, which considering I've had a virus isn't too bad. Normally if you share a house someone will go and collect your prescription and shopping for you, I have to get my parents to do it when they have the chance which is something but needs organising.

I've totally had enough of feeling ill now as it started a few days before the spots came out, as you do with chicken pox. It did get me out of an event on Sunday, which is the one silver lining so I can't be totally buggered by it. Otherwise I am being forced to focus on now, and not care about anything that may or not be ahead as besides the TV nothing more is known.

I do wonder if blogs actually offend people. I only say what I believe to be how things are, and deliberately say things here as others rarely do outside closed doors. I think as far as Muslims go I've been able to leave it to them, as there's nothing I could add when they call the west immoral and then kill their daughters for marrying the wrong person. Even Max Clifford can't put a positive spin on that. Like terrorists, of course only a small percent of muslims do both, but sadly almost no one else worldwide does either any more. And people who come to the country where I was born and are at best neutral to the existing residents, not learning English and managing to get a range of benefits impossible for able bodied existing citizens such as free transport and instant social housing. These are the sort of things Londoners see every day and keep quiet in the main as they don't want to be seen as racist, even though they aren't. And even if people keep within their own borders the world population is growing so fast the little resources, particularly energy and fresh water will become less and less adequate. No wonder global warming's become such a big issue. If they can divert our attention with an irrelevant fairy story so much we take our eyes off the real ball and one day we'll wake up and not find petrol at £2 a litre, there just won't be any.

Then the supermarkets will start running out of food, and bingo, we'll be back in the third world after a few hundred years dragging ourselves into being a civilised country. But this will be the whole world as no oil equals no transport. We'll be growing our own food and in many ways leading a better life than we did before, except in many places such as Britain there won't be enough room for all the people to manage and we'll end up with plagues resetting the population back to sensible levels. Global warming can't hold a candle to the real issues even if it does exist. Lack of oil means we need to use less for heating and naturally higher temperatures would be a very tidy way of lowering energy use, particularly in this part of the world. I even remember a dentists drill which worked by using a pedal, like a potter's wheel. Things may have to be done the old ways again, but they'll be done.

Meanwhile the Muslims are kicking 7 kinds of shit out of Israel, Iraq, Afghanistan and anywhere else they feel like it such as India. We can't stop them as they are not a rogue country with a rogue leader like we're used to, they are spread evenly across the world near enough and are happy to die as long as they kill more people in the process. That's a viral type of enemy. Kill them and you kill the hosts. They hide in schools and mosques so it's impossible to get them without getting innocent people, a trick they've used as long as history. The Geneva convention and anything else applies to everyone except them. They attack Israel, a sovereign nation who is passive unless provoked, and half the world still blames Israel. They have such a magical hold over the evil and stupid of the world that unless people like me remind the neutrals who the real bad guys are when they pop up yet again they'll win the war of opinion regardless of what happens in the world. I don't care about the motivation and proportion of terrorists, just as I wouldn't with any murderers. They are the lowest type of criminals, and the fact they use religion to justify it is like a schizophrenic saying the devil told them to do it. The result is the same and the victim or their family are no better knowing why they were killed. So we can never stop them blowing people up, but we can learn to disapprove of them, which seems to depend on who is killed and where. If it's in London they're evil bastards, but when they do it in Iraq or Israel somehow it's our fault for encouraging them. Schizophrenics and psychopaths don't need encouraging. They do it because they enjoy doing it and believe they have a right to. Most convicted criminals will try and justify what they did but condemn nearly every other crime. Selective blindness. If any other sod did what the Muslims do there wouldn't be a person disagreeing with it, but put a Muslim in their place and suddenly everyone in Camden is looking for their motivation. Well, Lady Jenny Tonge, it's simple. To kill people. Is that enough? Apparently not. They need a full historical and psychological analysis and then balance their rights against the rights of the victims who surely (just like the Jews during the holocaust) must have done something to provoke such a reaction.

Of course, the Nazi attitude is being revived in a new form so hard to recognise until you see the way they do it is identical. The Nazi sympathisers blamed the Jews for being killed in the war, the Muslim sympathisers blame the Jews for being killed in their civil war. Nothing has changed. If America was anti Israel I doubt many intellectuals would criticise them for what they are doing in Iraq, but as they are seen as the sole supporters of the people who killed Christ (they didn't actually, but don't let facts stand in the way of hate), anything they do is intimately connected with it. And anyone who helps them like us is branded the same. The Israelis are used to it and care less than the diaspora who look on in amazement as week by week a different group of Arabs attack them, all with the sole aim of wiping the country out, as they've never lived any differently and never lost a war, with or without outside help. The only saving grace is very few Arab nations join in to help each time things kick off, though at the moment Iran are supplying half the arms. It's not even an Arab country by the way, they were invaded by them and are very advanced and decent people otherwise. It's only the ruling ayatollahs who keep it in the stone age, and like China or North Korea the people have little they can do about it.

Anyway, job done, if anyone gets offended they are missing the point but I'm not stopping.

Dropping out

I've finally realised, without planning or deciding it, I've dropped out. I've actually been dropped out, and as such may as well make the most of it. It's not a disability or crime, it's being outside everyone elses' issues. While middle England spends 50 hours a week working and getting to and from work, I sit on the outside watching the sheep, bees, ants and other herding animals as if it's another world.

Not deliberately or casting any aspersions on them, but as a true hippy have been forced to put my lack of money where my mouth was and follow my principles. Many jobs people do produce nothing (public relations would be the first to go in my world) and people waste most of their life purely in order to pay their bills, and convince themselves that they are actually helping society. Like fuck they are. I know lawyers employed by huge companies purely to get round health and safety and fair trade laws. Bastards. We are a world populated and run by crooks, and I choose not to participate in a dishonest workplace. My old boss used to lie to customers as a matter of course, including illegally. That's the standard attitude, tell them what they want to hear, but give them what you want to sell them. Who cares if it's what they asked for or need, as long as you make the maximum profit. Not in my life. There's no need, I've seen two shops do well simply by providing the best quality stuff at the best prices. Richer Sounds. Check them out. Made the boss (one of my best friends once) one of the richest people in the world, and kitted me out with the top 20 plus year old stereo equipment that mainly still works. If anyone's in business follow Richer's, and learn from the best, not the worst like BT or McDonalds (let the buggers sue me then). I bet my cat would walk straight past a big mac, just as I would, and I love burgers normally.

So back to my point. The second stage of dropping out is attracting money. It's easier and weirder than you think. By following your heart and doing what you want when you want you tend to earn money. Think about it. If you stop a crap job and start painting or making music someone somewhere may want to pay you for it sooner or later. If I die or reach retirement age and look at my catalogue of pictures, articles and TV appearances I'll know I used my talents to their maximum, unlike people with just as much who haven't time to use them. Women or not I can still create and always will as long as life allows me. On a similar note I just read Youtube is the 16th most popular site on earth. I have 17 videos there and though one was just called disgusting (it is, that was the point) someone not only saw it but made the effort to use the facility to comment. Drifting off I wonder if my loony (we all have one sometime of our net lives) still reads this? I could find out by tomorrow but won't as it would start her off again, but it just shows what depths you can discover in people's psyches when pushed far enough. Frightening and lucky such a distance away. On the opposite side someone from Funtrivia just sent me a lovely postcard, and if she didn't live so far away I'd have gone round there and given her a kiss.

Two posts in one day? Using the time you see. No TV besides Big Brother live, and little else to do. Finally I can wonder over further steps I could reach on my dropping out journey. Giving talks would be nice, sharing my philosophy gained through trial and error and little from others. There are a few firm rules I know that work but few know and fewer care about. So instead they argue, become paranoid and get ego problems. And sex. The taboos and hangups most people have there mean (as Freud described) the energy gets diverted, and by many men into violence and women into being bloody bitchy to everyone. Because they're not getting any. And why aren't they getting any? Because half the world's religions say it's wrong and dirty. I have a lot to compete with. Turn that oil tanker around before people start to become free, that started in the 60s and with Aids turned right back to Queen Victoria's views. What a bummer. People just start enjoying themselves and a virus comes along. A bit like my life now as it happens, but mine is curable. Anyway, by limiting availability to sex makes most people very nasty sooner or later, and part of my talks would be about letting it all hang out. Last time I said this an old friend from college spent weeks slagging me off. It's this very attitude I fight to remove, but feminists abound and are the antichrist to the hippies, telling the hippie chicks to cover up and complaining about beards being men wearing their pubic hair on their faces. Better than having it in their brains I suppose...

Thursday, July 20, 2006


I have nothing in particular but will write about it. At least work comes to me and I can manage the odd hour here and there so am not losing as much as I could from the germs. The replies are creeping in, one by one, and the latest is the next TV schedule comes out at the end of this month to see if I'm there or wait another month and then another.
Patience is forced on you when you have a disease with its own plans. It comes, stays and goes in its time, not yours. Like every aspect of life but this one is obvious unlike the other traps we are all caught in. Earning a little money is clearly important so can't take away the validity of that, but it's a shame in this weather I don't really have a lot I can do in it besides stroke the cat in the front garden. No way am I going shopping, but when I go to grandma later hope I pass somewhere open with a parking space as I really don't want to miss half my supplies in the kitchen.

When I ought to have my nose in a female rather than a book life seems a bit of a waste of time. And imagining I don't deserve anything unless I have a job is a learnt illusion from family, friends and enemies which I don't need either. The people with the most haven't done the most to get them, it's just a random sort of distribution. Thinking 'Of course I won't get much until I contribute to the world' is cack, as when I did things weren't any different besides some very inadequate women. Being made to sit indoors and do nothing makes you dwell on all the inner conflicts even more than usual as there's no competition. I am free at least. Somehow my shopping will get done, it's pure neurosis as I'm so used to getting what I need before I run out, and as we don't get viruses every week am not going to be in this position for too long. It just demonstrates another way living alone stinks, and if any woman on earth without a control issue wishes to join me and do some shopping as well please leave a note in the box.

Clitoral stimulators? They make and sell these rubber implements to adjoin the finger. Can you imagine any animal using extra hardware to stimulate their partners? Talk about selling ice to the eskimos. A human body has every possible texture and technique to stimulate even the most stubborn lady button on the planet without hooking a piece of rubber more resembling the thimbles used by cashiers to count money. If a woman needs her clitoris stimulated by someone else for a change than their own means, I can prove there's no need for any extra appliances as I have every known method within my own abilities, and it's 99.99% currently wasted. I also know a few things to do in other places that add to the experience, but you'll have to take me up on the offer before you find them out. The brain is clever enough to locate a few other places next to the naughty areas so if you tweak them as well it joins in with the main event. Having also practiced solitary tantra I've learnt many of these routes directly and you'd be amazed what hooks up together with other places. Money being no object I could have a queue of customers for most of the day and service them one by one and only cost £10 a go as that's the most I can afford to spend...

I suspect few men know or care how to satisfy a woman, another reason my lack of a sex life is so tragic. I'm one of the few who knows and puts it into practice. It's why I'm on this earth and hardly anyone cares.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Not a biscuit, tablet, cake, drink, etc...

Blogger has let me down and it's let itself down. Even with recover post when the site crashed earlier it saved nothing. I didn't write anything interesting, and I won't repeat the little I remember, it has probably done everyone a favour, especially when I started talking about my pubic hair. That's as much as I'll mention.

I was so bored I made myself go to take pictures on Hampstead Heath, I managed to get some good ones as planned though I didn't leave the car, a sort of pretty typical health compromise. So I have a little train of replies I await, the last lot took weeks longer than expected and the trouble is however little effort it takes to do so, these guys would rather do anything else (especially with customers who have already paid) than deal with simple enquiries.
I remember when I worked with lists, and could get through hundreds of calls a day with no trouble at all. Or invoices. I still pissed around, did the crossword, played warehouse cricket (ie normal but indoors) and all the other fun but the work was done and done well. I used to make piles of goods on the shop counter in lunch hours to stop queues, so rather than wait each customer told me what they wanted and I divided the counter for each person until their order was completed and they could go. No one else did anything else except serve customers one at a time, not because they had to but they didn't matter to them. I saw such a simple way through it though didn't bother to try and educate anyone else there to change the whole system. I would nowadays though.

Little else going on now, a one hour break between TV programmes and unlikely to have a walk later, especially when the hottest day was spoiled by a virus. One client was so confused by everything he missed my message saying he could come so lost more money as a result. I could have managed one person but it wasn't to be. Well my original post was a lot longer but went into detail about my skin and hair problems, and you probably wouldn't want to hear about that at any time. Suffice to say all the effort that went into making the best of my body would probably be ignored by any woman who actually liked me. I have food and tablets that really need collecting, but not by me yet. I just read somewhere our lives on earth are the toughest of any. The trouble is that's all we have, so there's no alternative, like the Optical Store's eye examinations while you wait. That's all you can have. But hard as possible is how it is. Community? Bollocks it is. Unless you have a wife when you're ill you rely on the rare charity of others or simply go without as I soon will have to. Any little job is impossible if the germs don't permit you to do them, much as my previous condition made them very hard at times.
All these clever c***s who say how much better it is to live alone should get chicken pox. Let them spend 2 weeks wondering how they're going to pick up a prescription gathering dust at the surgery, or replace their cold drinks that are running out quickly due to 32' (what's that I wonder?) temperatures indoors?

People talk fucking bullshit simply because they haven't 'been there and done that'. They talk such a talk they create the illusion they can cope with anything. That's while they have nothing to cope with. It's the same as offering something cheap and not having it in stock. They can't provide the goods, only pretend to themselves. They can't fool me. Talk about having a full time job. Let them swap their well equipped office with boys and girls paid £5.05 an hour to do their shopping for them for a house half a mile from the nearest shop, no help at all, and a virus to lay them low. Then how would they get their tea when the teabags ran out? My guess is they'd waste their ample savings on a minicab to go to the Co op and get their shopping list, which would cost about an extra £10 minimum, as time costs as much as distance. Forget neighbours. The only one who would do it would then wait till he needed ten times more and expect me to do it as he bought me a pint of milk 3 years ago. No thanks. Anyway, I think that's a clear enough picture of why living alone is second only to prison in lifestyle standard, and the longer I'm ill the less I'll have indoors to use. Tap water (at about 15'C) and baked beans (I stocked up when I had the chance) are going to put me on par with Big Brother's victims of punishment on basic rations. The cake runs out tomorrow and the biscuits appear never to have been bought at all. There is no answer. I discovered when my divorced parents sold their house and I had nowhere to live you're on your own in life, and will know it for the rest of my life. The couple next door are such a total stereotype I am beginning to wonder if I am enlightened, as in a real world I couldn't have both guessed a young Indian couple would move in and have nothing to do with me (though sad to say being Indian virtually guarantees having nothing to do with your English neighbours. It's the law, apparently).

So isolation in London is complete. People see the body in the street and no longer even walk over it, they just walk on it now. They basically don't give a damn. Other people, if not familiar or useful are not seen as fellow humans, just furniture to be moved around when it's in the way. I offered to help the old guy next door many times before he died, but he was too proud for help unless desperate. Whenever I can help anyone around me I do, as my father taught me to. It's not only easy a lot of the time but valuable. Part of what makes us living beings, as many animals also help each other. I wish everyone was forced to go through a bit of what I have if that's the only way they'll learn. Until you see it from the other side you'll never see it at all.

A bit quiet at the moment

Getting a quart from a pint pot is more or less what I'm doing in life and here at the moment, though besides not being up to a photo trip due to the continuing viral infection, I didn't actually do a lot different from what I usually do on a Tuesday. I feel better each day, and my neck gland has gone down which is a good sign. And it means a rather unwanted arrangement on Sunday should now go west. 300 people and me covered in huge spots is not a good mix. So possibly a silver lining there.

Otherwise I am waiting to hear from Sky TV for a rough guess on my show's appearance. They didn't come back to film a second scene but I think the presenter had less say over adding to the schedule than it seemed. Tomorrow (unless my client decides to take the risk) is free now, though driving to Hampstead Heath doesn't seem realistic, especially if over 90'. It'll still be there next week. I suspect my filing will finally be emptied out and put away, which is something. Sex and chicken pox won't go well together, but as I wasn't really getting any before that won't really make much difference. Any visitors would be nice but I suppose most people work during the day.

So I'll be trawling my lists for any old jobs I hadn't done (washing the old kitchen items in the boxes comes instantly to mind) and with me doing my half, would be really amazing if the world could provide the other half sometimes as well. Like the girl I met on holiday replying, as well as a few other emails I'm waiting a lot longer than I should be for. I remember my Dad used to let friends from abroad store their crap all over our upstairs rooms, and maybe if I had space could offer it to people for storage just to attract a few new people in. I can't even fit my own clothes and books though, and am desperately looking for ways to clear a few things out but am getting stuck once I reach things in good condition I use. People also give me things like law books, valuable but now I don't even teach don't really need. I have a small bag now ready for the charity shop, but 90% remains indoors.

Unfortunately whatever we do, what we get back isn't related. For example my friend who went abroad didn't do it because of me. He decided to emigrate, left, and the US government said when he probably has to come back. This is a perfect example of how we don't really dictate our own lives. The shit thing is nearly all these random events are against my own interests. If two sides fight any battle, it seems the baddies now win every time. Ken Livingstone, who I happily say is Britain's nastiest character, gets everything he wants at my expense as he is in charge of London. Decisions that affect me are nearly always now made in the negative, and add to this the personal rejections, mainly by women but plenty in the media (which offers far more chances to succeed in the long run) apart from the TV I'd have lost nearly every possible shot I've had for a few years. In fact were it not for the TV doorway in the fence which otherwise surrounds my life I'd really be at rock bottom. Granted nothing followed the first programme, but it is how many people see it that counts the most, and one of these should be seen by many more people.
Otherwise I just chill out, take photos, write to people I met in the 70s and fuck around. But if anyone else who was involuntarily made to live alone, not work and be rejected by every decent woman for 25 years would probably react in a similar way to me. I know a few who have actually, but all it does is make people realise there's nothing they can do about it and pass by. What a waste of a life...

Tuesday, July 18, 2006


Over the last few years I've been discovering my abilities in each new limitation. Health problems make new fences around me in new places and designs, and each time I've become like a typical life form, adapting to try and make the best of my small environment and on the second level (which is actually harder) not to feel inadequate having any boundaries at all. My research tells me most people's boundaries barely exist. My friends and family (besides my mother who I took after) can face a day's trip anywhere, a meeting lasting from an hour to a day, long parties in remote locations and to top it all fall time work (even my mother did this with ease).

Quality has to be balanced against quantity though. My quantity is limited by lack of energy and interest. Even if I had the energy to do something awful, my autonomic nervous system would usually make sure if it was that bad I wouldn't do it. This came with age. Less and less would be tolerated over the years as I realised I did most to please other people, usually family members I never saw except for these dismal gatherings, and didn't really care if I lived or died, especially the one who robbed us of thousands. Thank goodness on the plus side I know even when I'm forced indoors for days or more I can sit inside and create. I have a recording studio here which could be used for reasonable recordings if I got everything together, but of all my hobbies is the hardest when using 4 or more tracks as each instrument has to sound right and make the right harmonies with no mistakes. Almost an impossibility as it's a standard cassette recorder with no option to edit. If it's crap you have to do the whole track again.

But the point is, simply through being an only child with working parents I was forced to make my house work for me from birth or soon afterwards. The few times I've had someone my own generation staying with me for a week or more it was so much fun as I was part of a group. One was a total stranger until she arrived, more or less, from where I did my voluntary work. We just happened to get on and she was gone after a few days when offered a job 200 miles away. But the rest of the time although friends come and go even now 99% of the time it's me and the cat and I make my own arrangements. At least by feeling guilty for incapacities I overcompensate by not wasting a moment of possible talent, making timetables of ideas I can carry out and always compulsory courses and reading to stay qualified.

The overlap now is I need a person to fit in with any of my newly gained incapacities, and not care. I certainly never do. Just imagine any of your best friends. Once they were active, maybe even more than you, and then they grew older and gradually slowed down. In the end for whatever reason they may have to stay in and around home. Who are they? The same friend they were before. What would you do? Trade them in for a replacement? I certainly wouldn't, I have maybe had 10 close friends all my life and am still in touch with two here and one's abroad. Of the two here one isn't local and the other is one whose wife gradually ate into any friendship until it was almost down to zero. Even after she left it was too ingrained to revive I suspect. The new life had become set and I was the old. So the bottom line is unless someone turns against you, there's no reason to drop them if they lose any faculties. It's no different to having a cat and a dog and complaining only the dog goes to the park with you. With people we have aspects of all animals, but it's when your dog-like friend starts becoming a cat the trouble starts. Who are they now? Are they an inferior version of who they were? What about the opposite way round? I've come across men who had submissive wives who started to become independent and go out a lot and they certainly didn't like it much either. But at the end it's whether the person is valuable or not to you. I don't trust many very far as it's the first time I've had to test any of them. Spending 2 hours on Hampstead Heath doing Frank Spencer impersonations was well criticised openly but didn't lose me any friends. But when I refused to attend a part of same person's wedding (a traffic jam away the opposite side of London, where I travelled happily for the remainder of it) I was admittedly not dropped, but clearly not popular. The same person missed at least one of my parties without even telling me (I think he forgot one) and the disappointment lasted a few hours.

My theory I don't care who comes to my parties was sorely tested this year when I only asked about 6 people for my birthday, made it a Saturday as it was the only day anyone would come, and none arrived. That was a bit too much but I didn't mark any names. I just missed the gym as if I'd known I could have gone there instead. I stray from my point though. I judge no one for what they can or can't do, but who they are. If someone can share a room and hold a decent conversation then they pass. It's really not more complicated than that. Whether or not they will come to my friends/family/football/etc means nothing. Now if one, two or more close friends (besides the one who is unavailable who never cared what I did) are the same as I am in that respect I don't know. Especially my wife. If I have a wife she'd have no option. Whatever I can do when she meets me is it. Any more is a bonus in the future and not to be expected as I can't expect it myself. Business wise I doubt it'll affect me as I had no work when I was up to it, and I can sit here and create forever, and if anyone wants to pay me for it then it'll have shown I can earn from any situation. But I no longer need any non-physical boundaries to see what I can do in tight situations so the time has come for them to release me again. Just because I can operate within 4 walls shouldn't mean I'll have to for the rest of my life. God forbid.

Sunday, July 16, 2006


Well, due to the chicken pox besides the TV there’s little else I can do at the moment besides write stuff. Drawing on memory and imagination is required, except for one experience when I tried to go out earlier (due to extreme boredom, not because I was feeling better), the woman I met 2 weeks ago who I added to my ‘invite over ‘ list was heading straight towards me with her friends as I headed in her direction. Of all the spots I have, more are on my face than anywhere else, and I look worse than Stephen Hendry at his peak, with pus and sores aplenty, and the beginnings of a beard to make it look a complete derelict. If she was considering whether to see me before, having seen the medieaval effects of the herpes virus (another definite reason to believe if there is a god it’s not our friend), combined with the irresponsible attitude of daring to leave the house with a contagious illness, has probably swung any slight chance I had there swiftly into the gutter.
And she looked 10 years younger than I thought she was (it was dark when I met her) so a possible prospect who may now be buried in the strata of fossilised remains of women who I have been turned down by.

So that’s the actual current life side today, the rest is all theory. No idea what but that’s the challenge. The week ahead is a little more predictable as I’ve just had to cancel a week’s business. I can’t be seen in anywhere public covered in spots and may well not be well enough to. It’s set to be really hot so whatever needs to be done in the house and garden (very little, most is done) will be. I am calling the TV channel otherwise the programme is bound to be shown before I know about it. There’s a 50-50 chance the woman I wrote to from a holiday in 1972 will bother to reply, and the rest remains to be seen.

My research has also reached a holiday. Unless the aliens or spoonbenders come here and show me I am beginning to wonder if I'll ever find out what's behind all the reports, or find there was nothing in the first place. I have begun meditating again a little which needs to be increased for anything to be expected to happen. I wrote the second part of my experiences and theories on enlightenment last week which hasn’t actually received a reply from either of the people I sent it to, which is odd, unless one of them is away. But even the things I had been waiting for took weeks longer than expected, so regardless of the outcome I don’t really see a lot ahead for the week. Even if I had visitors in the normal course of affairs, despite the fact you can’t get chicken pox again few friends would dare to come round as the illusion is far greater than the reality. So in a way the week is like this entry, restricted and completely unplanned. I hope the actual time is more interesting than what I’ve written here though…

Saturday, July 15, 2006


Well, it seems the worst is over, once the spots come out you start feeling better. It's a strange kind of freedom as well as I can't go to the gym so can do whatever I please today knowing there's no time limit, and apart from the clients who have had to cancel due to germs present, anyone in my position will lose money when ill. I just wrote another quiz for Funtrivia (only my 7th) on toilets. I don't remember how it came to me but once it did I had it sewn up in an hour or so. I prefer to write quizzes on things I know inside out, and that was one area I do that I hadn't exploited.
Well I'm just about to go for a walk (that is allowed), watch a video from yesterday and who knows. Otherwise there's a long term wait for the usual suspects, though oddly I've had no response on the article I sent off at the weekend. Whether the best looking girl I'd ever met at the time (1972) will reply to my letter now I've located her is in the balance, and stupidly I sent her the only picture I had of her at the time, realised I should have the negatives and so far have found one lot but not the other from that trip. Unlike me I also have no idea where her letter is she sent me at the time as I have a box for all these, and would never have let it out of its proper place unless I read it and forgot to put it back.

I may also have a beard by the end of the week as I won't be shaving until the spots go away, but are frankly better covered up than obvious. But I'm feeling a lot better now so can use whatever time I have a little more, and like always wish the outside world would provide something of its own to add to the experience, not including viruses. It's two parts, we do our best, but the outside world randomly provides the results to our starts, and outside the realm of academic and TV it's been wholly lacking in mine for a very long time. In fact I think I've managed pretty well given what are really dire circumstances, ie total isolation, mimimum income and unreliable health. How the hell can anyone remain happy or cheerful for long when there's little to help it? I will say when I feel OK health wise after illness I do realise for a while that feels good whatever's happening, but shit happens outside as well, and it's a step up to maintain that feeling when something awful comes through the letterbox or over the phone. And of course that's when having another person to share the work would help. Dream on, it will probably never happen.
So, a bit of a mixture of both here, but another lesson from the Big Brother house to end with, yesterday two people said they could live there for ever, and technically it has everything anyone really needs. If you like the place and the people, going out becomes redundant after a while as all you need is there. I'm like that here now, and the more people who realise life is where they are, not somewhere 'out there', people will learn to be content with being part of a community rather than going out all the time for entertainment.

I still wonder why all my readers are so shy only one person signed my visitors box last week. I am disappointed...

Friday, July 14, 2006

Illness update

Chronic fatigue? That was merely a smokescreen for a real germ this time. After the being knackered since Monday I came out in a lovely crop of spots today. I appear to have chicken pox. All my life exposed to kids with it and nothing, and at 46 it pops up out of the blue. Actually I'd rather have a damn good reason for feeling like this than just chronic fatigue and a virus is certainly a valid one. So Newport can now relax and know this time it was the real McCoy.

I know it wasn't VD as I haven't dipped the wick for half a lifetime...

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Look at this!

Just saw my first March Bolero, a Nissan Micra conversion by Autech and brought over from Japan by its owner. For the anoraks among us it was at the lights northbound at the Hendon Way/Station Road junction. There are at least ten similar variations, Autech are the retro branch of Nissan and basically make their cars look decent for the local market who actually give a damn about what their cars look like unlike the British who are happy with any old cack.

Back again

As I'll be busy later on, I'm here relatively early, on my first full day off this week. My chronic fatigue goes through phases and for some reason I've been knackered most of the time since Monday. Working of course didn't help, as having to work when I'm tired already compounds the situation and each effort takes longer to get over.
But I've made plans and managed to stick to them. Now I have Flickr Pro I think of new places to take photos of, and add to my pools such as trains and road signs. It's a complete view of suburban North London that I know well, for locals and people abroad who would never see it otherwise. There are both really nice places round here and others I simply call home. West Hendon, where I went yesterday, is a good example. It's mainly a total shit hole. But my shit hole. Fantastic shops, though the parking, like all nearby and beyond, is virtually verboten. So I often go on my bike, or just don't bother at all.

So having decided to start a group for Finchley Road (where I worked for 5 years as well as used all my life) today's mission was to continue the pictorial views south to Child's Hill. I probably missed one bit as I spotted some nice houses and took a diversion, but that's the fun of photo trips, you usually spot extra views. Since I got the digital camera in November two scenes have already gone, the sign for Brent Cross station, and the garage at the bottom of my old road that was built in the 30s. I've seen other views people have taken which have changed drastically and only in a couple of years, so if you don't snap it you'll never see it as it was again.

Then I had the great pleasure (not) of returning a mouldy piece of cheese to the local emporium which is one of the few remaining since we lived here in the early 60s, though under different ownership. Now I have a couple of hours to kill/free before my friend arrives. Probably shite on the TV, and in the last few days I've wrung out every last part of the internet, so have a little gap. One mystery is where my readers have gone. Apart from my 2 regulars, all the others appear to visit but none comment any more, even on my request to. Most of the people I know would do, so I can only assume they've stopped reading and the replacements just don't bother to comment. Now apart from 2 blogs on my list all the others have either stopped altogether/near enough or gone off at a tangent. One doesn't even read mine (unless he doesn't comment) but is one I continue to marvel at, especially as even if he made up half of it he's still got the busiest life I've ever come across, except for having no girlfriend.
Even at that age, though I was busy, I was never that busy. I doubt anyone was. I won't go on about it, as you can read it yourself, but it never ceases to amaze me. I go on about dragging myself to the grocers and taking photos in Golders Green, though from home I am admittedly pretty darn creative. The last time I was going abroad would have been around 1999 on another day trip (leave yourself wanting more, it works for me) but when I told my grandma I wanted to go to Ireland for the day she wanted to come with.

That would have meant picking her up, probably a few hours earlier than I would have intended to go, and told I wasn't wearing suitable clothes, I didn't know the right route to the airport, to stop complaining about the service, where are you going, did you wash your hands, etc etc for the rest of the day. No thanks. So rather than go on my own and receive her total dismay for not taking her (it's impossible to hide anything from her, trust me) I just didn't go. Then I was put on tablets that made me sleep so much I could never wake up in time to get a flight early enough to do a day trip. I'm not going to France again just to go abroad- the drive to the coast is half a day and with the congestion charge you'd have to pay just to get there. Calais is OK a couple of times, Lille I have only passed through but is far more expensive as you have to take the train, and they don't have the hovercraft any more and I won't go by boat again. So as soon as I find myself up when the time says am and I'm not busy, now grandma's not up to it, I hope to make it there as planned so long ago. Health permitting of course. Since I reached the point where I no longer go to places to add to my list I really don't care. I missed football last night as I was working (but probably far too tired to go) and I don't care. I've been to Barnet about 25 times and one or two more won't change my life that drastically.

My new career path is not adding countries and football matches but TV appearances and published work. That is where I'm the performer and others are looking, as I always wanted. So while I wait the apparently endless 2 months to hear the first TV date I have to carry on as if nothing's happening as it's done and I still have to carry on until it's shown. So I do, and as long as the tiredness lifts hope that'll carry on.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Wednesday again

It's been a bit of an odd day today. Nothing special, just a mixture of free time and work, and both mixed up a bit with delayed appointments (not by me, I add). I factored the photos in the time before I started, followed by the fire as reported, only a 1/10 on the excitement meter, and then spent the time between appontments sending said photos to as many news services as I could think of (not a sqeak in reply, if they use them I bet they don't tell me).

I only have trivial or non-urgent jobs to do now, all the big ones are done and I'm pretty well free. I have my little list for the future, which consists of possible replies from: Microsoft, someone I met on holiday in 1972, the latest article I sent, and various other friends who email at their leisure. Then the crucial TV schedules which are my personal light at the end of a tunnel that's been far longer than I'd have chosen. And finally my list of female invitees has now reached 4. I doubt 3 will be up for it even if they pay a visit eventually while we are both still alive (at this rate this is doubtful) but I'd be very happy with any one of them.

So unless something crops up the rest of the week's free now. Not too much or too little work this week. The TV begins in half an hour, I missed one programme while I was working and recording something else, which I can live with, and then it's who knows. I still come across more and more people of both sexes living alone who all agree they're not really living while alone. So it's not just me, it's like living without a leg. We can all use crutches (ie talking to yourself) but we really need a real leg/person ideally. And unlike amputations we can get people at any time having lost them, but not at will (unless you invest in the Phillipines, my plan at 50). If I could trust them 100% I think I'd do it now, but besides the money you have to pay the agency and the flight costs, let alone the possibility of having to go to the godforsaken place yourself with a 'get dysentery free' card all inclusive, I would really rather do it the easier way.

Finally, fire rarely destroys British buildings. Unlike America most of ours are stone so only the wooden roofs collapse and the rest remains to be repaired. But this effort today was a mystery. It was a 6 storey shell of a block of flats half built, and went up in less than 30 minutes (I saw it from my window, and then on TV). There was literally nothing left of it. Now modern buildings usually have steel frames filled with breeze blocks. Not a beam in sight. This thing was going like a Guy Fawkes fire, yet technically nothing should have been flammable. Unless I spoke to the builders I couldn't know, but it remains a mystery. The shame was the adjoining road is a real slum area and a major fire (again where no one was harmed like this one) would have regenerated a disgusting area. The road this happened was purely industrial, containing the Hendon Police College (all 2500 members evacuated), and student halls of residence. It was a very unremarkable road that will be none the better for any changes, but the one next to it could only be improved as it is nothing but Victorian slums. So the moral is if you want something done properly, do it yourself. I'll be starting a major fire around the corner and do it properly... (yes, I was joking...).