..So, News Years Eve I'm standing on Bromborough station on the way to travel to Birkenhead and my friend Karls, looking at the young lady and her bike, to my right.
..And, it occured to me that maybe I couldn't talk to anyone, anywhere, if I choose, so I chose to.
..The young lady was Indian, or Pakistani and obviously quite timorous, especially with the strange man talking to her.
..We had talked awhile: and as we both got off at Birkenhead Central, I'd carried her bike for her,after introducing myself by name.
.."Mine is Jehan," I'd been told.
..And nice as she was, what had struck me was the ammount of times she apologized, for a minor grammatical abherration made in my language.
..Like I can speak hers!
..She's apologizing time and again and all I'd wanted to do, was scream, 'stop it, you've learnt to do what many English never try.. you've learnt another language- the one I use.'
..But, I hadn't, I'd just smiled and said something quite inane instead.
..But, we'd got
..funny is listening to my parents talk of getting the wasing dry. I don't think they've any idea Rogue of how cute I think they sound.
Not a poem, or a story; more of a narrative about a moment of Now.
I’m no wordsmith.
But, after the other night
I had to write ~
to try and describe
what I saw and felt.
‘Coz a moment of now
like that,
doesn’t last very long.
And, it had started with a friend
and a suggestion.
But, I was nervous, apprehensive.
Just plain scared.
Yet, I’d been told it was ‘safe.’
So hesitantly, I’d approached the door ~
and the two big men, standing there.
Then, I’d passed between them.
And as I went to go toward the stairs, going down,
one of them said,
“You pay at the bar.”
It was dark inside,
Yet I easily found the bar ~
where I’d paid for my entrance,
then got a whiskey;
and found a quiet corner to sit.
Now holding my bar dollar
which paid for my first dance,
I was nervous, apprehensive.
Just plain scared.
Then, with a warm, wide smile
and dark searching eyes,
a dream of a girl approached me;
then in a light, pleasant voice asked,
“Do you want a dance?”
Black silken hair frames the pretty
face, of a young woman
of the Asian race.
And I go shy ~ but, nod, ‘yes.’
I am nervous, apprehensive.
But, I can’t help but stare ~ she
looks lovely, and ~ I can’t help
but stare.
A red and black pleated skirt
clings to her hips,
It’s hem ending mid-thigh.
And she wears boots, of what seem
to be soft leather,
with zips at the side
and a sensible heel.
Beneath the calf-hugging boots
she wears black, knee-length socks.
The expanse of leg exposed is toned,
A natural golden colour;
and most attractive to the eye.
A white blouse,
knotted at the waist
and a school-tie loosely
tied; exposing, the flesh
of her belly ~ and,
the cutest,
inward-sloping, navel.
“I’m Neil,” I say,
taking her right hand gently in mine;
and I kiss her fingertips,
gazing at her knees
and the toes of her boots.
So we sat and talk
and I slowly relax,
with May,
as I learn she is called.
And, as we talk, I stare,
I can’t help it ~ for with
dark eyes and hair
and a beautiful smile, May
has a beautiful face.
And, I’m just, transfixed.
Finally she stands,
Saying to me, “I dance now?”
Still a little nervous, I go shy ~
but, nod, ‘yes.’
And I watch May push
the house dollar
into a black pouch,
pull its drawstring tight,
then turn to me.
She indicates
I move where I sit,
so I do as she bids
and sit where I’m told
my heart beating
ever-so-fast, as May
begins to move,
to the music.
And I feel breathless,
as I gaze, I stare
and squirm where I sit
and I’m told to ‘relax’ as she
begins to dance to the
beat of the music.
And May teases, to the music;
her every expression
and move, pleasing me.
Then eyes cast downward,
and slowly lifted back to mine,
she undoes the blouse
buttons, one-by-one.
Then finally, the knot undone,
she drapes the blouse over my right knee,
then steps forward to continue her tease.
She casts her hair over her shoulder,
then looks back,
to see me,
watching her,
and her
every movement.
Her back to me,
buttocks just over my crotch
and my arousal;
May looks over right shoulder,
at me,
as she gently caresses each breast,
the nipples erect.
As May teases,
to the music;
her every expression
and move, pleases
me…
And, she cups her left breast,
the darker flesh of her left nipple,
to me; the one with the small cute
scar, that I like…
It’s an enticement offered,
then denied:
as May turns once more,
and teases, to the music,
a wide smile on her face.
Then, with her back to me,
May pulls her skirt up,
to reveal a little wisp of white cotton in between her taut,
proud cheeks.
I lick my lips, as
May swings her hips,
toying with the waist of her skirt.
And soon the red and black
pleated skirt, no longer clings
to her hips,
it’s hem ending mid-thigh.
It is gone the way of the shirt,
to lie on the floor, where
she drops it.
And now she dances
and prances before me
in just boots, of what seem
to be soft leather,
with zips at the side
and a sensible heel.
As she bends forward,
she runs her left middle finger
between her legs,
I look to my left
and May reflected in the
wall mirrors.
And, her eyes
alight with mischief,
May seems to delight
in my obvious pleasure and
apparent discomfort;
as I stare, at her eyes
and the pert shape of her derrière,
as May continues to dance
to the beat of the music.
I watch May turn, naked,
except for her panties ~
my attention held by the rise
and fall of her pert buttocks,
as she moves to the music.
In front of where I sit,
May arches her back,
Rocking her hips
back and forth~ her bottom
almost grazing my crotch.
And I feel breathless,
as I gaze, I stare
and squirm where I sit.
May looks great, as she
starts to gyrate, her backside,
just before my eyes.
Then, she turns, once more,
to wriggle her hips before me,
the crotch of her white,
embroidered, cotton panties,
drawn tight around her shapely
mound ~ as if, to emphasise
perfection, in my eyes.
And, still moving, May gyrates
her hips, watching me stare,
as she slides the panties,
slowly down her shapely thighs.
I look to the mirror, then back
to May ~ for at this moment,
right now, she is all there is.
And ~ she dances to the beat
of the music ~ until, too soon
it begins to fade.
Then, she kisses my cheek
and says, “thank you,”
before dressing.
“Thank me,” I paraphrase, quite
breathless;
“Oh no, thank you,” I added,
kissing her fingertips.
Demure and delightful,
it was good to be with May.
It was “safe,”
being near her;
and it’d felt good.
Then finally, I’ve spent what
I’d set aside, after two more
dances.
‘And as a moment of now,
it’s ones that I want to recall,’
I’d thought on the way home,
with a grin.
And, now, I figure,
‘It was worth it, just to write this.’
Not a poem, or a story, but a moment of Now.
It is 3:20 and the bar is filling with solitary men,
all ready to gaze...
upon the girls, three in all; who will strip and tease,
for their allotted slot, (fifteen minutes, or so;)
on the railed off dais…
and now my bitter costs an extra twenty six pence.
The music is now louder and there is an impatient atmosphere, as men take the best spec, so as to enjoy the show...
Now, it is just a few minutes to go...
and what was an empty bar, is filling still: as places are taken by men, in working attire, casual dress and the occasional suit.
Where I sit, at a table to the right of the dias,
I look through the rails and across the stage - to the heavies now standing by the door, ready to restore order, (it seems,)
if any man takes liberties... with the girls.
It is now past show-time - and anxious faces look around...
all of them waiting - with five minutes to go...
and what was an empty bar, is filling still, as places are taken by men, in working attire, casual dress and the occasional suit.
It is now past show-time and anxious faces look around...
all of them waiting, (with evident anticipation) for the girls.
And men gather at the wooden rail, round the small, slightly raised stage,
as if aware, that soon ... very soon, their patience will be rewarded:
and another cigarette is lit, as my pulse quickens and I know that I am now part of the expectant crowd, all waiting.
"We dream the same dream, we want the same thing..."
is played whilst during this intermission -
and somehow the song seems very appropriate...
The lights suddenly dim throughout - except for the bar
and the spotlights that point toward centre-stage -
And the first girl comes on, dressed as a cowgirl, in chaps, waistcoat, boots and a hat ... Strutting across the stage, cracking her whip.
She wears cut-down jeans, worn as shorts, pulled tight to the crotch...
and she strips to the beat and ... she squirts Gillette onto her hands...
blue eyes surveying - the faces of the men as they leer...
The blonde smacks at her pert breasts and against her ass...
and a John Major look-alike, all in grey, stares wide-eyed, shaving-foam dripping down his beer glass; and all before her are enthralled as the cowgirl stimulates the crowd - as she simulates sex with the whip butt...
And she leans forward now, her glistening folds dripping with oil, liberally applied... with a finger teasing at the entrance... and she smiles,
for her part in this now of the crowd, has just ended.
There is silence, (then,) there is applause, as the spotlight becomes dim -
and... the blonde can be seen, collecting her fallen clothes.
And once more we wait...
So, I visit the toilet 'coz the beer is going through me:
and I read the scrawl on the wall...
before taking my seat once more.
And we wait in the darkness, till music blares... the next girl,
again a blonde, stands before us on the stage, dressed as a schoolgirl,
her hair worn in braids, that loosen and fall as she dances and prances... across the small railed off stage.
She is wearing a uniform that she will not have been in, for about ten years, or so, white blouse, shoes and socks and a grey-pleated skirt,
with shapely-legs stocking-clad... she disrobes very slowly...
playing the baying animals in front of her with an air of mockery...
and they love it.
Licking her lips the girl pushes forward her hips and toward
a little man's thick pebble glasses... and the crowd applaud him,
much to his delight and embarrassment.
Then the blonde busty Barbie-doll... bumps and grinds her way...
to the rail opposite; turns her back to a man in a rugby shirt and… bending over…
thrusts her backside toward the man and… laughing,
she finally drops her skirt;
then returns to the middle of the stage and continues to strip...
away her remaining clothes.
Now the blonde sits on a chair, it's back facing front,
her legs spread either side - as a man, stands in the middle of the crowd, between the two rails and before the steps to the dias:
he is large and bulky, with little round glasses and is wearing a light tan mac, his hands are deep in the pockets.
He has thick pursed lips and as the act proceeds… the man impersonates a goldfish... drawing in his breath - and - saying the word 'more'...
As the girl - young woman I should say...
begins to move, her actions are old, indeed practised... and…
She is confident, in her control of the men, looking up at her...
and the ribbons are not tight any more and her braids hang loose ...
as she takes out from her rolled up towel ... Johnson's cream milk
and her head back, in mock ecstasy, she takes some into her mouth ...
dripping it slowly, down the mounds of her young breasts.
She looks down, at the rail...
then smiling, she watches her audience
and repeats this part of her act... again and again.
Then the blonde moves to the front and poses naked... for the fish ...
and as the man in the mac draws breath, to show his affection,
she laughs and turns, to resume her strip... and continue to tease.
She looks at the audience before her, sparkling eyes wide,
with white lotion trickling from the corners of her mouth...
before standing and bowing, her act finished...
And – the lights dim once more.
With my coat and case, I reserve my place, as I seek the bar and a beer,
before finding my seat ... and I light a smoke, sharing a joke...
with my neighbour, who has also finished work early, so as to be here.
The last of the three takes to the stage - and - this redhead is older,
than the other two girls, both puppy fat
and eager to play the mechanics of the strip ...
Though she is the eldest by far...
she stalks from one half of the stage to the other…
with an arrogant swagger:
an American police woman, in her blue shirt, grey skirt and peak cap; wielding her night staff as if it is a club...
She looks at the audience sternly...
from beneath the brim of the cap – as she walks,
stepping high in her heels, as she looks at the men,
as if they are the prey, that she stalks ...
As she undoes her shirt buttons one by one - parading the stage,
flaunting her legs, her body, her smile ...
each button is undone with measured ease, every movement guaranteed,
to emphasise the tease...
She removes the cap with a flourish and her long, lustrous, red hair cascades loose and she shakes it... as she whirls in a circle, twisting her hips.
The tie is removed and finally the skirt and long legged and toned,
the redhead moves to the music in white bra and panties,
suspender-belt and fine black hose.
On all fours now, she prowls feline,
then lowers herself, she pumps with her hips...
and makes love to the stage, eyes like slits, (in apparent pleasure,)
as she observes the eye’s... of the men watching her ...
As she undoes her bra, directly looking at a man, clasp held tight ...
she turns to another, cupping her breasts in her hands,
as the bra hits the floor... the redhead stands centre stage,
to lift her arms and display her charms.
And standing, she struts over to one man, middle-aged,
laughing with his pal next to him ... and she turns her back to him and her firm cheeks to the edge of the rail…
peeling off her knickers slowly, halting and looking around,
at the crowd of ogling men, all intent on her every move...
And when she does slip them from her long legs.
he looks down to his pint, blushing...
and a man shouts, from near to me, 'Hey we're missing out!'
So with an intricate turn of her hips and a few steps,
to where we sit 'neath the rail...
the redhead bends again, to pose as before, showing her slit peach and brown rose… looking at us, from upside down… and she winks...
Then her breasts gently sway, as she stalks the stage floor...
and then, then redhead lies on her back... running her hands over herself, teasing us ... with this display.
And she turns and sits, facing the group of men by one rail,
twisting and turning her legs, to sit again... legs wide…
facing the other side… then does the same again,
to face the crew by the steps to the stage,
so every man has the chance to view her, all of her...
And she takes to the middle of the stage once more... and kneels,
wearing only high heels and a smile, running her hands over the swell of her breasts...
as she hardens the nipples... with her fingertips...
And then, as she runs one hand over her belly - and picks up a bottle of Boots Baby Oil with the other.
She eyes her body, as the oil drips down ... and looks up, just once or twice, running oil-clad hands over her flesh ...
till finally she sits cross-legged, with one hand gently resting on her bush... her eyes all a flutter... and she stands looking around... then bows thrice to the men, as the house light come on...
And she picks up her clothes to a great deal of applause.
'The next set starts in half an hour,' I am told.
But I'm not sticking around, 'coz it's time for my train and I'm sure,
that my supper will be getting cold ...
– 0 –
..Sunday, New Years Eve and the blue skies had disappeared to be replaced by grey, foretelling a very story day.
..the washing brought, my Father and I had put it over two maiden in front of the fire to air.
And, there on the table was the re-sealable plunger cap, which Mr. Fixit had already repaired after he'd been working on it, for an hour or so.
..I'd wondered how long it would take Mr.Fixit to mend the impossible to mend.
..It'd taken him a week.
..the thing is I'm irked
..feel treated like a jerk,
..from someone who
..isn't what they say
..and it's just a pity,
..to expect too much
..from someone:
..and nothing.
..I have 69 friends: it says to my right~
..and those who choose to hear their fine words, display their cleverness with guile.
..talking concern and judging by their own standards: they disappoint me, greatly.
..and, why list me as a 'friend,' if you've decided that I am not?
"Not so much a poem, as a narrative
~ about a moment of now."
Here I am on M1 ward
sitting on my bed-
And, I’m not bored.
Although I’m in here
and it’s sunny outside-
I’ve thoughts to quell
of discord and fear.
I know what to expect-
I’ve been here before.
So, the unknown it isn’t;
yet, in a way
that is the problem-
I know what to expect.
And the staff I’ve met,
and who knew me
from last time,
didn’t run away
as I walked through the door.
What was good,
was noting the
welcoming smile
wasn’t fixed.
It was, to me,
proof evident
if it were needed,
that the staff here
are real-
and treat the person,
as just that…
At least I think so-
I’ve got another…
two and a half days to go!
My primary care nurse was filling in
reams of paper,
in reference, to me…
And while she talked
and took my pulse and temperature,
the fellow with the walrus ‘tache,
in the next bed, had visitors.
He’d smiled and said, “I’ll let you make up your own mind on the food…” adding, “I’ve just had one main meal since I got here…” and
“I’m sure we serve better food to the cons…”
As my opinion on the green
differs from the law,
I’d picked up
on what he’d said,
as soon as it was said.
It was also of note, I’d thought,
that this fellow, the one with the
‘tache, was the son… of an ex-
headmaster, at Secondary School.
Now, call it me
Being me-
But having learnt what I had… I had to
Do something, saying something; I just had to…
Well…
on my brief tour
of the ward,
when talking of art and stuff,
with my smiling primary care nurse,
I learnt that she liked,
the written word.
So, on our return,
I recited my poem
‘Bunk Bed Blues’-
about bricks and the
confinement,
of four walls.
For me, there was no surprise,
when the fellow, in the next bed,
the one with the ‘tache,
went quiet, his nose in a book.
I’ll lay odds, the fellow
doesn’t smoke the green…
of that I’m fairly sure.
At just after seven,
a long-legged blonde,
short-skirted
vision in pink
stood at the entrance
to the ward.
More than once I’ve
thought,
‘I’d like to take
a photograph of her.’
Britney Spears was the
image, that my friend
had chosen for me!
Knowing I’d at least
two shots left, on a roll
of film, of tenty-four,
she’d suggested, I bring
my camera with me.
At her suggestion
and my request,
my friend had
taken her jacket off.
All legs and twirling
blonde hair, in a top
that just about was-
she’d stood
by a tree and,
I’d taken a shot,
with a grin on my face,
stretching from ear to ear.
“Where are the toilets?”
she asked, to which
I’d replied,
“you could’ve used
the ones on the ward.”
“Oh no,” said she,
“I’d wanted to change…”
then, pointing to a pink
carrier-bag, she’d added,
“for your surprise.”
So, I’d minded her
handbag, sitting in the
bus-shelter style
smokers corner
whilst she’d gone
to change.
As I’d waited,
a fellow, in a wheel-chair,
with just one leg,
came out for a smoke.
And I’m sure, that
he appreciated
her surprise, for me,
as much as I do-
For, with a grin, he’d
said to us, “they’d
better not take my
blood pressure now.”
And there she was,
minus jacket,
once again –
dressed in a very
short wraparound
grey belt, masquerading
as a skirt;
white shirt, tie
and golden ring-e-lets.
Again by the tree.
my friend
posed to tease, looking
down, with her eyes
directed, straight to the lens.
I’d taken the shot,
pleased with the
light, being as
bright as it was –
at that time of night.
Having taken the shot,
I’d wound the film
And to my delight,
Found another shot left.
She’d turned, her
left side toward me;
dipped her back,
then pushed outward
her pert derriere.
Short grey shirt,
long smooth legs
and a pose
that said to me –
“I am sweet and sexy,
you can look at me.”
I did more than look,
I held the camera steady,
(although I know not how) –
as I’d used that last shot
Then we’d sat awhile
and talked – and
she’d flipped apart
that short, short skirt,
to display the legend,
in pink, on white, ‘cutie.’
As I’d sighed,
my eyes opened wise-
and she’d said to me,
“Well, you had to, it was
part of the surprise.”
That was my friends’ visit:
And though there was more
I could say – it wouldn’t be,
just couldn’t be, enough.
She’d wanted to
Make me smile,
Before my op –
And … she had.
But, by then it’d
been quite late.
nearly eight: and it
was getting quite dark.
st least I knew
the 410 bus would
get her home –
and that she’d get from
just across the road.
So we’d hugged our
‘goodbyes’ and
I’d returned to the ward,
for a hot drink and
an antiseptic bath.
And, I’m first on the list
tomorrow, I am told:
and that is good –
less waiting around.
The only thing –
And it isn’t a problem,
is that, at about six,
I’ll be bathing again –
So, I’ll be ready for my op…
..I’d been told to think about putting my story back, where it belonged, by three people whom I respect here.
..And to ‘think about it.’
..’Think of the people who the story might help understand what is going on in their lifes.’ Said one.
..good question.
..It'd been raining hard outside
..and I’d lain back, to chill, watching some Doctor Who I’d thought about it, listening to it rain.
..and I didn't say who prompted its removal, did I? he says respecting their privacy and right to it: although uncomfortably so, on this occasion. She meant well, I think.
..I claim my right to silence on a matter which doesn't matter. My life is laid out before you in a veritable plethora of imagery, in my portfolio here.
..I showed it to someone to read.
..the feedback I've talked of.
..as it was, I still felt tender about me and my decisions, after the young lady who talked of the bothersome englishman:
..I mean, that'd been my mistake and I didn't want to be hurt again, so put myself out to be hurt with my, work.
..I'd tried to talk with someone too soon after being hurt and I think I'd expected something that just wasn't.ain.
..And, it's a right bugger, to be proven so right in your assumptions, time and time again.
..Maybe that's why I get so badly disappointed, by some people, who seem to say:
"I'm not like all the others."
..oh, The Cottage came down.
..
..someone suggested the young 'ens and/or admin. mightn't like it.
..pity, it was my Life and its like censoring a portion of it.
..thing is, it was no more explicit than hetro sexy stories that can be found on pages here, including my own.
..yet, it was based on my life experience: which is why it was here.
..that why the frustration.
..I don't want to offend, but at the same time,
I do believe in free speech, ideally mine.
..I removed The Cottage ~ so as not too offend:
..it was removed on the suggestion of someone who writing I like, who'd suggested it might be removed, due to the possibility id might cause offence to the younger people here.
..I have to wonder though, would the younger readers here have a condemnation of an accurate portrayal of a young man's sexual discovery?
..sussed it out in a message to someone
..it'd been my mistake.
..as simple as that.
..I'd though that she and I had been getting on well.
..O-boy had I been mistaken.
..
..but, there's a walk in the rain to be enjoyed.
..I'm feeling sensitive ~ I read a journal that didn't speak well of me.
..But, I guess when all is said and done, I'd far rather be too sensitive, than as I have been: it's just that as I aknowledge, I have a fear of rejection and sometimes it's just too much to bear. Y'know?
..I finally got onto someone profile, to check out the new code they'd said they'd employ.
..and I was reading the journal, which previously I'd not been able to do
..and I read an entry about the 'guy from England' - talking of me wanting to everything of their life and of being a bother
..and I'm mortified
..I never knew
..why couldn't they tell me?
..I feel effin gutted, sick.
Until 1:40 a.m. on Christmas Day morning two thousand and six, I was working on a piece on the laptop bent double, watching little wavy lines appear underneath the occasional words that I’d typed out as I’d worked on yet another part of Pandora’s Players ~ Jason: ‘Tequila Sunset.’
Then I’d gone into the kitchen, to make my Earl Grey tea ready for morning, as is my wont. I’d left my room and walked through the living-room, in the dark, so no light would disturb my parents, who were sleeping.
As I trod carefully and slowly, a well-worn path, which I knew well, I’d quickly noticed the pilot light was still on, as it was the only illumination in an otherwise dark room. I’d closed the door to the living-room and opened the slide door and entering the kitchen, turned on the light.
So it was then I remembered the red wine that I’d been given as a present and my parents and I had consumed with our ‘tea,’ our evening meal; of beef and roasties and roast parsnip, albeit from a freezer bag – the parsnip had still tasted sweet.
And I’d looked at the bottle, still half-full, as we’d all had but one glass – and my Father had attempted to re-seal it: at with point the plunge seal we had had finally given it’s last seal, or not in this case, as it had broken in two and little bits of plastic and rubber had sank to the bottom of the bottle.
Although in hindsight; twenty-fourteen, as there’s a defect to the right eye; I’d really not minded what happened, as my Father had then said, “you can have it later, if you want.” Which is what happened, at 1:47 a.m. in the morning.
And, I still recall that we’d got the re-sealable plunger cap in a Christmas cracker a young persons lifetime ago. And, still to this day, that cap and the twin torches that had dropped out of crackers have gone down in family folklore and tradition, as the best Cracker Presents ever.
And, as I turned the bottle of Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon upside down, after making my mug of Earl Grey, I’d recalled another bit of family folklore and tradition; the nickname my Father had earned two or three young people’s lifetimes ago – that of Mr. Fixit, where in he would take anything old, or broken and renovate, or rebuild it; very often when it had been myself who had broken ‘it,’ whatever it might be. And, as I’d gently shaken out of the bottle little bits of plastic and rubber I’d recalled this piece of a memory, forever held and wondered, ‘just how long will it be, until my Father has this thing working again?’
Then wine and tea in hand, I’d wandered from the kitchen to my room and opened my bedroom door, being very careful not to wake the folks.
And then, I’d sat down, cross-legged and hunched over my laptop, to write once again: which is where this piece arose at 2:30 a.m. Christmas Morning.
And, I'm still surprised the wobbly wisdom tooth saw me through the meal of beef, with a fine Chilean red wine.. and currently I'm as stuffed as a turkey.. and I still haven't wrapped my presents.
So, I guess in some ways at least, I am 'a typical guy!'
..I've been struck this year by how many can say that ~
..I've lost contact with people I'd prefer not to , whilst hearing from others I thought I'd not hear from again.
..I've just got my folks and that's enough:
for me.
..I nearly lost my Mother awhile back, so much as people think its strange someone of my age living with their folks,
they've been here for me.
..Now, they're stuck with me.
..So, much as I don't do gallavanting Now
I've got more than some and that's enough for me ~
..I've got parents who Love me
..and still make an effort to enjoy the time of year with me as I like.
..I'm very Lucky.
..going to cook at the church later.
..I'm not a Christian:
..but, He/She puts up with me
..and I put up with Her/Him
..
..and beside, the guy's/girls who come along every year do seem to appreciate what we do.
..I like that.
..hey, I just won a quiz on our late-night radio show: and then gave the prize away: to the morning show and their 'Christmas toy appeal'
..winning was sufficient!!
..got to face the outside world shortly:
..in the fog.
..and thanks to the cold and raynards I feel like I'm typing with frozen sausages.
..I'm not going to complain about it though, as the central heating is due on, soon.
..yay, for central heating!!
"Keep away from the window," Little Mother had said as I walked to the kitchen, as she and Dad stare out the front window at the birdbox.
"We're waiting for the blue-tit to come in, they arrive at 4:10 exactly. "
And, with the lights off, there they sat, just watching.
..they'd arrived, as true dusk set in.
*
..and had my first night in with the lads last night, which was as 'relaxing' as one could want.
..something I don't generally do Now, so was a pleasant time..
..and fluffy-head syndrome has set in
..and I’d rather stay on VR
..and well, I guess that sounds like a plan.
..except ~
..
..there's one or two bellies that'd rumble, if I wasn't a committed volunteer.
..
..and, at this point, I emphasise the word 'committed.'
..best job ever.
..
..it's how I earnt my bad back..
..only one person was thin enough and stupid enough to go over a cubicle toilet, to direct lift a large fellow in grand mal
..
..get him out and lay him down.
..they always say you know the day it goes, I do.
..I'd been talking here of 'Expirydate' the indie film I died briefly in.
..Well, tomorrow I'm going to a film audition, with the writer/director:
..this will be a horror/comedy
..the BBC will be making a documentary there.
..I'm sitting here with frozen toes: the boiler is dead and I'm sitting here like a frozen popsicle, all wrapped up in my clother and my thin robe and I'm pretending its a smoking jacket, so I don't feel too unhip:
..which I am and I do realize..
..sad eh?
..spent the morning on an application form.
..and posting a card, for my Mother, who took a fall yesterday.
..her ankles badly bruised.
..but, all she complains of is her head ~
..she has torticollus and they poison her neck with botox, to keep her head straight.
..and as I type she has a visitor and is all smiles and I'm banned from the front room as I talk too much: 'tis true, I do.
..I can.
..I genuinely feel better than I have in years:
..with toothache that is oh-so painful
..and the begining of a headache that's cutting my skull in two.
..and still, I feel better than I have in years!
..the tooth hurts.
..but, I think I'll not have it extracted
..as its a happy wobbly thing.
..
the folks are watching Forrest Gump
..
..and I just watched The Immortal.
..
..I feel better than I've felt in years
..and there's no reason for it.
..
..I feel fuckin good!
..the tooth wobble really hurt last night, which is why I'd started writing!
..and I finished a vampire story, my first in ages: and Now I'm feeling hyper
..it could be finishing the story, or it could be the remenant of the painkillers I slooshed round the wobbly tooth.
..and it's proper English drizzel outside
..and I'm going visiting shortly.
..oh, whoopee!!!
‘I hope the film went well. I would like an update, if you don't mind. I'm still wishing you every success.’ Was part of the email message I’d sent to the woman who wrote ‘Expirydate.’
Then today, I received this, ‘Unbelievable! I was going to visit you later today!!!!! I am making a horror/comedy and we're having a get together for actors on the 12th (tuesday) at 6.00pm. If you'd like to be in it, I can collect you and take you home. Let me know what you think - I'm in a rush now as I have to go and see…’
..I am enduring the weather.
..enduring depression.
..
..and accepting the kindness of some very nice people on VR
..
..I never was good at accepting help.
..little better today.
..there was high winds and rain last night
..it's sunny today
..I cleaned the windows and the grime of the base of the cistern and discovered a new cramp in my thumb.
..But, I am calmer and things are a little easier between my Father and myself.
..so yeah, I'm a little better.
If a depressed individual who knows the answers, is till depressed even then: then were do they go from there?
Depression SUCKS.
..
And I admire others who can wring change:
Right Now, I need to do more and what’s worse is that I do know the answers.
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