Bollocks and more bollocks

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

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

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

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