24 th February.

24/02/2007
In bed last night by midnight, so have had a decent amount of sleep.
Got up this morning with a mild headache and feeling a little “fluey”,
Half an hour later felt better.
Room has warmed up quickly and I have no intention of venturing out as I look outside at the fog slowly rolling in.
I hate Saturdays;
used to be a drinking day for me, I would spend all day in the club trying to get intoxicated then return home for food.
I now look at it as a challenging day to get through,
there is little worth watching on the TV so a night’s viewing is seldom a prospect.
Having taken the chill off the room I turn the fire down to save fuel and provide a comfortable environment to sit in and work.

I think back on the week, two days spent on the grass, most enjoyable, probably the reason I feel so bloated, I have eaten well so far.
I need to revise my course work but truthfully am not at all in the mood.
I will no doubt struggle through the day, hopefully finding something of interest on the computer to while away the long hours till bed time approaches.

To return to.
“what if”
Do you keep your old circle of acquaintances or become a part of a newer, wider circle?
Would my partnership survive,
I decided not and began to contemplate life without the people I had known for over twenty years.
As one gets deeper into all the different aspects of adopting a new lifestyle the food for thought grows by the bucketful.
As I mentioned previously I had made a friend who had been involved in the music promotion business for 25 years and he was able to enlighten me as to the changes which have to be made, sacrifices, and the effects that change on individuals;
some take everything in their stride others are overwhelmed by the amount of outside interference in their lives and rebel before fading into the ethereal company of has-beens and failed wanna-bees.
At the time I was working on a computer diary and manual which served as a record of work done on computer and solutions I’d found to overcome problems along the way.
I had also begun to write a story of my trip to Scotland and the seemingly wonderful couple I found trying to save their little piece of Scotland, this had spawned the idea of a short film based around the hotel which would hopefully bring in much needed revenue; of course I also considered the music, soundtrack to accompany the film.
For relief I turned part of my diary into a fantasy;
my struggles with the computer were turned into a fantasy struggle against evil, probably influenced by my love of Orwell,
( no not the fucking bird!), 1984.
I have to admit I seldom get the chance to go to the theatre, I would dearly love to go more but finances restrict somewhat when on a limited income.
I took my partner twice to the local theatre,
I explained we were going to see Animal farm, we watched the film on TV, she read the book and after seeing the production she agreed she had enjoyed it but not fully understood the politics.
I later took her to see the winners of a TV show, Meatloaf and Cher;
she admitted she enjoyed that type of show better.
We never went any more!
It was during these times of considering What if, when I decided my present life sucked.
I had a companion who tried her best to look after any of my needs but at the end of the day had not the slightest inkling or understanding of anything I was doing.
Sometimes at the end of a particularly frustrating session or more often than not when I took a break due to a computer crash I would come downstairs into the front room and try to explain what I’d been doing, what I’d seen, explained what I needed to learn and how difficult it was,
I would tell her things, adding she didn’t have to understand just remember what I’d said and repeat it to me when I was straight.
I tried to talk about problems related to the P.C. but all with no possibility of positive feedback.
Indeed I had to stop telling her what I was up to because she began to worry I was doing too much.
I sought medical help at one point,
I explained to my doctor that my mind was over active and I found it extremely hard to switch off.
He decided I had hit a mental block, similar to a writer;
obviously he hadn’t understood my mind was far from being blank it was overflowing with business.
It was probably at this point that I decided I was alone.
I had purposely isolated myself for years and now I had the resources I was insatiable.

Later the problem became worse and I went to a local mental hospital seeking assurance that I wasn’t burning myself out, I had spent a lot of time on computer security and the subject had taken me into many different and seemingly dark worlds, all good material for the fantasy writing, which I’d chosen because my daily routine was no more than P.C. use and bed. (Not dissimilar to what it is now).
I stumbled on for a while longer until my behaviour caused concern to the people around me and I was sectioned.
I had tried to de-clutter my mind by clearing out my life,
I had decided that I’d had enough of drifting from day to day and had to get rid of all the excess baggage.
I had to set myself goals and deadlines for achieving same, sections of work had to be completed before allowing further progress, I’d switch seamlessly between several writing tasks, learning modules, to music study, media centre creation as well as general interest P.C. use.
I took a number of years creating a workspace;
somewhere I could sit for 24hrs+ and have everything I needed at hand.
I now realise I took myself to a limit never previously experienced, unconsciously I put every ounce of life I had into what I was doing , often collapsing with the effort.
I kept myself going by clinging on to the idea that I was laying the foundations for something in the future, my future, separated from all other influences.
Now my memory has returned I can look back upon those years and pinpoint times when I was at the limit and also the times I went too far.
My escape from a room full of cables, complicated wiring and array of equipment has allowed me to set up my present system with a minimum of fuss.

Less is more, a lesson I learnt along the way.

There were times when I cried with the fatigue, frustration and pain but often as not sheer fatigue would allow me to crash.
The day, being a period of 24 hours meant nothing to me.
I woke up, worked and slept again, regardless of time of day or night.
My computer problems began when I bought a purpose built machine off a talented friend of mine who seemed to have great knowledge of computers.
I later found out the system was a copy, a much copied copy at that.
I invested in a kosher system disc but was soon inundated with problems, security and malfunctions almost on a daily basis.
I had to learn how to solve these problems and trolled through technical sites for answers,
I took “ an interest” in the development of the long and short horn projects, installing beta versions and trying to integrate with several pieces of freeware I’d come to rely on.
For months on end computer use meant an almost daily battle with problems often to the extent of excluding any possible work save writing and keeping an account of the details of the changes made to the system.
After experiencing so many problems I got the idea that the detailed accounts could be useful to other people and started to produce an answer and problem section which may or may not have resulted in a manual for other users.
Writing at the time was my way of relaxing, but regardless of how relaxed I managed to get myself or how much dope I smoked the ideas would continue to mill around in my head and several thought processes seemed to be active at the same time, occasionally influencing my writing, taking it from reality to surrealism.

I had knowledge of only one subject and that was myself, my experiences and struggles so that was how I came to write for relaxation and study purposes alike.
I learnt very quickly that computers are like ice bergs, the deeper you get into them the larger the mass of learning and information available.
Was I a spider or a robot?
At times I was armed with a sledgehammer, battering my way through walls of defence to get to the truth or to achieve my goal.
Technet.
I remember receiving a scam letter in the post one day and within hours I had located the source of the letter and had details of the person who initiated the scam by searching the white pages and other sources of information.
The availability and ease of entrance into same fuelled my suspicions and fears and at times I was at odds with what I was doing;
for relaxation I’d hunt for “kiddy lovers” on the net, baiting traps and examining people’s files as they made contact.
I had stored quite a collection of Porn and was always sure of getting plenty of hits as I joined several file swapping programs in an effort to build up my music library.
Which I did quite successfully until I realised I no longer wanted to be surrounded by media regardless of what form it was in, that was when I began to dispose of my collection of tapes, L.P.s and discs.
I kept a small amount of discs, each holding 20+ hours of sounds which I used as background while working.
I concentrated on getting the best sound reproduction available through whatever equipment I had at hand.
I have already explained earlier the route I took; a long and winding road, indeed.
When I put together the makings of a reasonable sound system I had to make it fully operational via the P.C.
I then learnt of the shortfalls of my service provider, even simple logistics, i.e. siting of equipment, distance from server etc. and of course the slowness of the digitalisation of the system was causing problems and making me formulate plans for when the system is eventually tuned in and running optimally.
At first the majority of my efforts were to embrace the coming digital age, but when I realised it would indeed take years to be implemented, I adopted a retro approach.
I decided to use all the equipment which would soon be becoming outdated and integrate a digital converter into the equation.
My small room soon became full of pieces of tackle which would allow as many types of media to course through my P.C; to be controlled and influenced as I wished.
I kept up to date with the latest proposals and devises which were to be introduced in the coming years, taking note of the choices and likely winners by researching who was actually backing the research.
An example would be the new disc format, and the tussle between the manufacturers, the film companies, and media powers, including the Porn industry.
Copyright laws became an area of study when I was thinking of scheduling programs to be transmitted, which sent me into a period of searching for out of copyright material to collect and play on the keyboards.
I used virtual equipment to play around with the sounds, experimenting with different types of programs which would serve the purpose.
My motto had always been why pay for it when somewhere out there you can access for free.
I wasn’t a devotee of free ware but took advantage of anything which was available with limited restrictions.
I learnt a little about computer maintenance, how groups of machines on a network are checked and maintained by staff, keeping the machines up to date with latest fixes and security ware.
I thought to myself, there’s a job I wouldn’t mind.
I saw the wages such a person could expect and dreamed of a life so totally different to mine with rewards, for doing what I seemed to be enjoying.
I set myself a time of four years to learn as much as I could with the thought that at some time in the future when my condition worsens and I become paralysed I will have an option open to me.
The only unknown on the horizon, according to the specialist, was the extent of the apparently inevitable paralysis; it may be legs only or up to neck.
I had decided quite quickly that if it was to be the latter then I would take matters in hand and kill myself as pleasantly as I could; possibly air injection or drug overdose.

The more I wrote and researched the more I noticed everyday articles.
Manuals would arrive with new equipment;
couldn’t fault the gear but often the manual seemed to have been written by a foreigner with little grasp of the English language, often resulting in the production of an inefficient and unhelpful booklet.
Leaflets, notices even letters produced with little thought of impact; with seemingly little knowledge of what is actually available in Publishing software.
Half hearted attempts to be acceptable.
To produce an article etc. which served its purpose and had impact gave me satisfaction, to integrate an element of uniqueness which would render copy complicated was a bonus.
I was “ reared” with SmartSuite, Corel draw, Photopaint, watched each one blossom and become something else.
Having been involved with computers since Dos, I have seen enough changes and marvelled at the speed of development in some areas.
Like some second generation Gilly Cooper I hung onto the computer as being no more than a fancy typewriter with entertainment and on board research facilities.
It was around that period I decided I had had enough of trying to simply keep up with computer technology,
I still hadn’t worked out how it would become eventually the hub of all households but had sufficient knowledge to make it the centre of mine and it was time to bring it out of the “office” and into everyday life in the living room.
Which is where it happily sits now, the vast array of inputs provided remain mainly unused.
Why?
Because I also realised that eventually a charge would be made for any service or device used in conjunction with the computer.
As storage capacities and speed and memory targets reached new heights I got a glimpse of the next generation of users and I didn’t want to become a part of it.
Countless generations of phones and hand held gizmos were going to be introduced, be it slowly as technology is prodded by public demand.
The virtual collapse of the recognised avenues of revenue, enjoyed so long by the record industries etc.
Control of same was slipping away from the large, fat companies, despite re-issuing standard favourites in new formats, decreasing prices and employing a multitude of marketing practises; the world was changing.
Advertising was the evil which was forced upon every user, and advertising had never been given such an opportunity in all its lifetime.
I foresaw a time when each person would be bombarded with advertising for goods and services as more and more personal information is collected, shared and sold.
For someone who rarely shops seriously more than twice per year I wanted no part in that future.
America and its cast-offs were heading for England, everything seemed to be given a price tag; information was becoming currency.
Countries known for their skills in manufacturing were fuelling the demand and clever marketing ploys were ensuring sufficient demand to produce often short lived equipment in great enough numbers to justify the development costs.
Britain was as usual unprepared, didn’t even have a communications backbone in place, let alone the development skills, foresight and workforce needed to quickly improve.
I lived here; so lusting after foreign connection speeds was of no use,
(unless Cisco speeds could be attained!).
In brief I learnt as much as possible about the current technology, tried to second guess the directions it would take us in and the good and bad aspects of travelling along certain routes all the while taking the financial cost into consideration.
A couple of nights ago a neighbour called around to tell me he was going to buy a computer, when I asked him why he answered
“ so I can record TV”
I rest my case.
A few years ago I bought one of the first production media computers thinking it would the solution to all my problems in as much as it would surely provide me with all I thought I would need.
I soon returned it when I found out how noisy it was!
I also consigned the TV hub to the loft when I realised that eventually everything will be pay on demand.
I’ve rejected lap tops and flat screen monitors after realising their shortcomings and heat and weight problems.
On the rare occasions I offer advice, I keep it simple.
I ask what they intend to use the computer for and then tell them to think about that question before deciding what specs the machine has to have.
That is usually enough to fuck them off.
The computer has morphed into a being; specs are no longer something to be researched and decided upon.
I would never dream of buying a car without trying it out but happily purchase computer equipment without testing it!
Almost six months of computer magazines lie on the shelf unopened, such is my decline in interest in the developments at the present time.
I am content with what I have at the moment and no longer want masses of cabling linking up media equipment.
Why am I writing today?
Firstly to pass the day without thinking of going for a drink and secondly to find out if yesterday’s joint fuelled efforts were just that.

I did rely heavily upon Cannabis to see me through long periods of work in the past.
I regret having chosen White Widow as my preferred poison, a milder strain would have been better.
After the first Winter the supply ran out and I had to use the street block mixed with some occasional home grown.
I was lucky in as much as the quality remained passable for a number of years, the dealer would travel long distances to get decent gear.
Up to 20 joints per “day”, (day been time awake). Must have had an effect on me.
The smoking and fatigue did cause me to simply collapse into a heap sometimes, much to the astonishment and at times amusement of onlookers.
I cannot say if smoking gear helped me in the thinking process, may not have helped me in any way but it was a companion which apparently induced a state of mind which allowed me to be content.
I was advised to try Cocaine if I wanted endurance but I refused.
If ONLY I had been paid to do what I was doing!
True there were rewards to be had, but only after some real deep digging could I uncover some of the treasures offered by the partnership schemes.
I was at times happy in my “sandbox”, as happy as any cat searching for somewhere to have a crap.
At times I ripped the system into little pieces, discarded whole sections and re-assembled what I wanted, all safe in the knowledge that I couldn’t do any harm because I was in a safe environment,namely the sandbox.
My P.C. was undoubtedly protected by an Angel and I was safe.
Despite many attempts to vandalise the system it usually returned in working order by the time it was next needed.
My old computer now is an ornament, it sits near the bathroom door and I see it several times each day.
The side panels are missing, I took them off years ago to allow extra cooling, there are large dents in the top where I punched it;
all reminders of crazier times.
It sits there, its heart ripped out when I disposed of the hard drive, will I ever use it again?
No! but it will remain as a reminder of that period of time when computer use became an addiction.
My friend keeps an empty bottle of Jack Daniels’ for a similar purpose.

I look at the clock and realise I have filled a fair few pages in less time than yesterday; writing Jack has caused me to think of drink and I muse over whether or not to have a vodka.
Relaxing with my drink I remember meeting one patient in the mental hospital who told me of the restricted access of the hospitals computers then went on to tell me of the dark secrets behind computer use, the implications, pitfalls and dangers of using same.
He was really believing that every machine was indeed intended for harmful purposes and observation only.
I agreed with him and fucked off!
He was the last person I needed to have around.

As one learns to become aware of the implications of everyday actions thus one has to learn that computer use will allow access to previously unthought of material which can give rise to a multitude of emotions and reactions of the mind.
It is without doubt one of the most powerful inventions yet.

In a time when the majority of the population get their “news” from managed sources such as papers and TV there is a problem for people like myself who never watch the news on TV or read papers.
When you bring something up in conversation you will be asked.
“how the hell do you know that?” or
“where did you get that from?!
Simply answering Internet, usually closes the conversation.
There is a topic in itself.
The management of the media.
Throughout history reporting has been managed and manipulated according to the government and influence of the ruling classes of the day.
Censorship laws have helped shape the media experience to become acceptable to the majority.
Advertising methods have helped promote or demote parts of our lives.
Air time on TV adds weight to certain arguments and ridicules others.

I finish my drink and open the window not feeling at all well.
I relax, my mind is apparently empty and I enjoy the moment giving space and freedom for any new thought to enter and take up residence to promote further writing.
No takers so I refill glass.
I think back to when I used to produce Vodka for ten quid a gallon; I then remember converting a pressure cooker into a still and producing a wicked batch of hooch from a large amount of over strength wine.
Much safer than buying the cheap imported, anti freeze added brews.

Adulterated blow and booze, contaminated cigarettes and devious computers!
The world really is a jungle.

Having switched the TV on during the twin towers episode I thought it was a re-run of the previous night’s film!
The apparent over kill in terms of coverage soon pissed me off and I turned off, physically and mentally.

I make a conscious break in the lines hoping for new inspiration.
I have dried up and glancing at the clock I try to figure out how many more drinks would allow me to return to bed and sleep through till tomorrow or provide me with sufficient hours rest to get up when ready and do some last minute revision.
I decide to opt for the tried and tested method of going with the flow.
Much of my time nowadays seems to be governed by whims and I go with the flow and let time pass.
This is my first drink for a number of days and as such I hope it has the desired effect of making me drowsy.
I fart and immediately feel the need to urinate, which annoys me because I will have to move.
I return and drain my drink, breathing heavy and laboured,
I banish the assistant to wherever he is stored and take measured breathes of air.
The most annoying thought at the moment is that I could be anywhere in the world doing this, sat in numerous situations and locations writing while listening to outside influences which may or may not provide further material.
Input! That’s what I lack and that is what the computer provides me with.
Stimulation, amusement, knowledge, solutions, news, views, personal accounts and widely held opinions, bases for arguments, food for thought,
downright blasphemy, unadulterated garbage, reference material, communication avenues, input.

That is usually all I have to read to find out what’s happening in the area I live in.
A major customs operation to smash a vast counterfeit cigarettes trade has swept across Teesside.
This is one of the headlines.

I read the headlines and no longer recognise the area in which I have lived for 51 years.
I read reports of the society of which I am a part and no longer want to be associated with.
Such is the power of news coverage,
I pour myself another drink and wonder why a Vodka bottle needs so many threads when other containers of more volatile liquids are equipped with less.?
At least that’s one thought today.
Tomorrow is my day to visit my parents and partake of a proper meal,
I begrudge Saturday because it is the last obstacle between me and a satisfying meal.
We all spend time living in the past, making plans for the future and hating the present, while surviving the best we can.
Majority of my life has been survival, often dictated by lack of money, sometimes company and nearly always without direction.
Even now I have more freedom than ever before I find the hassle of filling in the hours to be a daunting challenge at times.
My Father often quotes my susceptibility to periods of sheer boredom to be a fault of my own making, I look upon these periods as heralding a time to change and often do so.

I refer back to my envy of mentally retarded people who appear to take each day as it comes and because they are free from the normal worries of us they enjoy their time, they are truly glad to be alive because they are unaware, untouched by the routine of life.
The simple pleasure they get from having contact with another human being, holding someone’s hand or feeling the arm of someone around them.
Am I lonely?
You bet the life I am!
I could easily screw some willing female but would soon after want them to leave me alone once again in peace.
I have reached a point where I can only tolerate company,
and only then for short periods of time.
No use writing about parties and sessions of the past,
I could no more host a party than stab myself in the eye with a dart.
I am a solitary animal and have resigned myself to the fact that it will be hard to find a suitable soul mate.
Perhaps now I have left behind aspirations and turmoiled thinking I may be easier to live with.
I would love to be normal, to fit into society, possibly be rewarded for being a part of the whole. To care for others and have feelings towards someone special.
Truth is, I’m a loner, always have been and always will be.

Sadly the older I get the more of a loner I become,
I refuse to get out of bed and join in conversations regarding the price of beans, bread, clothes or discus the contents of the daily rag.
The actions of the appointed government hold no interest to me unless they impact directly upon my situation.
Yes, I do take some interest in the budget, if it is likely to affect me.
Hell just look at the new titles been given to benefits over the last few years, takes some keeping up.
Sport and recreation has become finance based and therefore is out of my reach.
I’m too old to chase women, preferring to merely open my wallet.
I resent paying high prices for inadequate plates of food.
Detest paying for poor entertainment.
Hate paying exorbitant travel charges to return from venues.
Refuse to pay for branded goods.
Have no knowledge of fashion.
Am oblivious to marketing / advertising.
I am indeed a human misshape who has become a social misfit, and
It’s all my own doing!
I have chosen to be what I am, and am getting to an age when I will no longer be able to change myself.
Do I despair? I think not.
I have the time, freedom of choice and mental ability to realise the consequences of my actions;
am I not therefore in control?
I wonder.
I am in no rush to die, having successfully battled against a major heart attack for three hours before allowing the paramedics to attend,
I feel now that if my life ended, I wouldn’t really mind too much.
May seem a daft thing to say but in this society where people are expected to live longer with little apparent purpose I would volunteer to have my life ended.
If I had the money I would have the paternity of my offspring checked, make a will and then make plans to go out in a fitting way.
I am not rich and therefore doubts will remain.
I’m that type of person.

6:20 PM 15th page since noon.
I obviously should get out more. but I think of the alternatives and take another drink from my glass.
Would I really prefer to be stood, jostled in a pub drinking over priced bottles of foreign beer, staring at flat screen monitors advertising even more drinks and food?
Queuing up in some taxi rank to await the arrival of a tired driver who will charge me as much as he thinks I can afford to take me back home.
Looking at young girls barely dressed displaying all for the world to see while swearing like troopers.
Blokes young and old trying to cop off with the likeliest looking drunk, vociferous female.
Likely lads doing business, others having drinking competitions at pub prices!
Perhaps drop into the local club and after finding out which hand bag is saving which seat find a place to park my arse and watch a brief glimpse of so called entertainment before the main event,
Bingo commences.
During which I remove myself to the bar to sit with the other half comatosed drinkers who refuse to go home till last orders are shouted.
I could of course always choose to go somewhere else, risking attack of mugging while walking there.
Perhaps I may choose to go for a meal;
if in luck I will not be invaded by a works party or the drunk who has staggered in and thinks he owns the place.
I remember one night, I was sat on a bench looking at the sea,
there was one helluva fight going on outside a nightclub nearby and the police drew up and asked me what I was doing.
I was sat on a bench, 50 yards away from the nearest trouble, gazing out to sea and they asked me!
I took another draw of the joint concealed by this time in my hand and explained I’d just got out of Durham and was enjoying the space.
They left.
So did I,
but not before walking a little distance and watching two fit looking females leave a nightclub and piss on the pavement outside.
I recall being caught by the police taking a leak.
I was informed that I was to be arrested.
“not without evidence”, I offered, “You better get down and start licking”,
the older policeman sent the other one back to the station and told me to “fuck off.”
The good old days when police cars would give lifts home after closing!
I remember my friend trying to pay the police for taking him home,
thinking he was in fact in a taxi!
At one time the force was local and therefore knew individuals on their patch and treated them with respect if no law had been broken.
I have no feelings either way about the police; undoubtedly their role has changed over the years and they still at times instil fear and suspicion when I happen to meet them.

I take a break and go for a piss, making a mental calculation that on an average day I’d be hard pressed to walk a hundred yards while awake.
Little surprise I’ve put on weight.
Seven o’clock is approaching and that is my usual cut of point, when the wonders of television take over.
Give me a laptop and a camera phone and a decent hotel in Amsterdam and I would produce an in depth review of all the café bars, giving detailed description of the wares on offer. Anywhere but here!
Some one has just sparked a scooter into life so I dismiss the idea of returning to bed for a while.
The final mouthful of drink goes down then yo-yos up and down my throat several times bringing acid with it each time.
I hic up, belch and generally disturb a lot more acid.
I pour another drink, intending it to be my last; looking at the remaining contents there’s enough for two more.
I add the final ingredient of the drink, the dash of orange as one would add the final touch to a meal.
I look at the empty dope packet and wish there was some left,
enough for a joint before retiring for the night.
Today has been a heavy day smoking wise, 20+ rollies.
I roll another to accompany the glass of drink.
Yesterday I wrote while stoned, today I have written while getting slowly drunk;
any difference?
Yes, I never smoked rollies as well as joints yesterday.
Today I’ve eaten them!
My stomach fills with acid and it permeates up into my throat,
I think about finishing my present glass and then throwing up.
Such is the beauty of life, as we know it.
I drink half the glass and stop when the body begins to shudder,
I swallow back several times, knowing I’m only postponing the inevitable.
A bloody good upchuck.
My body has developed an intolerance to alcohol and I’m powerless to stop it.
I never get acid attacks, only rarely, when smoking dope,
and seldom feel the need to vomit;
pity I can’t afford it, not forgetting, it’s illegal.
Perhaps 50 is the magic age when the body begins to rebel against abuse?
I take a break and flick through the television channels, nothing grabs my attention.

Here I am again, started god knows where for whatever reason,
going to who knows where, doing it simply to pass the time till bedtime comes around once more.
Just like old times.
I take yet another drink and think of what a combination is, cheap lemonade, vodka and cheap orange.
I think back to the old days when I would have gold, black, blue, red, and silver in stock,
A full range of quality vodkas.
Backed up with 120 litres of decent whisky, some liquors and of course a stack of cans for the plebs.
Yes, I’m a snob when it comes to drink, I’ll always choose the best option having suffered for years with cheap imitations.
In my mind I’m looking forward to returning to bed,
but in a corner there is someone saying not till the booze has gone.
I agree and pour the penultimate glass full.
I realise now how good a speech to text program would be to me.
My problem with writing is that ideas are extremely short lived and the effort from typing correctly tends to make ideas disappear.
I do use Dictaphone at times but am too lazy to work from it!
If I was at all to be serious I’d have to invest time in getting a program to recognise my accent and speech patterns, but what a tool!
My thoughts vanish almost as quickly as they emerge and therefore the pressure to get them down into type is immense.
I am in pain, my stomach is creased with acid burns.
I decide enough is enough and finish.
A quick check to verify work has been saved,
Don’t you hate it when that happens!
Hour’s of work disappears.
Saturday R.I.P.