Punishment and trial

Just to keep up with my own progress I'm looking back over the week, and am not in a rush as I was when I posted earlier. I'm knackered, 2 whole hours of work but I was knackered already, with no particular reason besides it appears to be my default state at the moment. God knows. Luckily I didn't have to leave the house all day (as I work here) so conserved my energy. Mind you yesterday was the busiest day I've had since the pox (chicken) and I was knackered then as well for half the time. Got plenty of shopping in though, little left now for a while. And loads of photos.

Is this the next 40 years (my projected age test says) and nothing else? I suspect the photos will dry up as there's only so many views of the same places, so that'll be replaced by writing which can go on and on, as you can see. Besides the single possibility of my friend returning in a few years, but to around 30 miles away rather than 3, I can't see much is likely to change. I can't settle for a convenient wife as I can't even get a third rate girlfriend even though I accept more every year. It's similar to the years I spent trying to bend a spoon like Uri Geller, diverting my attention from reality and getting nothing done with no hope of it. Now all my tasks seem the same. Find a girlfriend. Well, there are the two candidates who one hasn't replied to the email and the other sees me as a little boy (she hasn't seen the dick yet mind you...) and besides that my health currently precludes 90% of shared activities that involve leaving the house. She'd need the patience of a saint and the sex drive of a rabbit. Fame. Another wading through mud situation. And with fame should come money, and not just the buttons I earn now but 3 figure sums an hour as I discovered the average journalist earns for an article. That's the same as I get in a month. Personal appearance are usually a minimum 4 figure sum for an hour or two, as no one who warrants less would be wanted for one. Public toilet to be closed in Hendon (they stopped opening them 30 years ago), call me for the first blow of a hammer, £1200. Nice month's work. The way I spend money that would last me for ages.

Of course I want it all for nothing, but having lived what others call a normal life for a while, until it chose to reject me, have invested a little time as a member of society. Since then I've also carried a bag of books round London leaving them in bookshops in case they could sell any. Actually that was while I had a job and did it on the days off. When not working I've written maybe 5000 words of essays for courses (a few times, if memory serves me), and recently done another 3000 for another one I'm doing, all from home. Of course I've taken my grandma and mother shopping and to hospital visits as I wasn't at work many times, which is what I call doing something really valuable rather than earning a fraction of what you are making for the boss. I've painted half the inside and some of the outside of my house, which saved about £1000 considering what the decorator is charging to do the remainder. Basically I think I've done my bit and if not doing at the moment am no less deserving of any success just because the work was put in some time earlier. It got me little at the time so a little delayed benefit would be in order should you get out what you put in, which I find not to be the case for anyone.

Tomorrow before I see my mum is free, no plans at all though I may take the camera with me again, and expect nothing and will get nothing. And saturday. Oh, and sunday. I still have some filing to do and when all else stops I can wash and unpack the stuff from the old kitchen that I never use. It was left from my parents house and no one else wanted it. And I don't cook. I'll no doubt walk round the park again, spend half each day online and rot. I have no respect from people here for my way of life but in my position what the heck else would they do? I may get up at lunchtime but how many of them are writing essays at 3am? I work when I'm awake, and I'm more awake then than during the day. Anyway. Despite almost 4 years at the gym my chest remains stubbornly the same as before, minus the fat. I lost 3 inches of fat but haven't added an inch of muscle despite my arms gaining at least two, which is 3 times the percentage as far more of the arm is muscle so gains more than anything else. And strangely despite losing nearly 2 stone have only lost half the waist inches I aimed for, 3 from 6. These are the few things of my life I can control. I can paint more similar pictures but they just clutter the place up and don't appear to sell in a gallery after a year. Writing is like breathing and being published is like winning the lottery, so that is unlikely to lead to more than it is now. So with no more ideas it's all become incredibly predictable, and with no major TV appearance to break the drought as I had been led to believe could, as I said, dictate the next 40 years. I honestly feel I'm being punished at times, but who by?