12 th April.

12/04/2007
06:20
Woke up at 1 a.m. but couldn’t be arsed to get up, woke up again at 5 30 so got up and had some breakfast.
Also went to toilet and after a three-day wait it was bloody, literally, painful.
Was in agony.

Looks like the start of another fine day, weather wise; birds are singing and sky looks clear of clouds.
I have to go back to bed now and try to relax for a couple of hours, whilst listening to the birds nested outside the bedroom window or possibly in loft, either way they make their presence known.

I’m in a lot of pain today, stiff back and knees, and very painful arse.
But hell what would life be if we didn’t have something to complain about?
Bed.
Back up at nine; woken up by recycling dustmen.

Had a cuppa and allowed the download from Compaq, first one I’ve had since I got the machine.

Had a couple of goes at the grass (Lawn) and can only last 20 minutes so am filling rest of time with P.C.
Am having trouble with missing application id in a exe file which is causing me some grief with the keyboard and mouse, coincidentally one of the downloads was an update to combo manager. Other was a graphics up date and the third was just an installer for future downloads.

Car insurance policy came this morning, still touching £250, including breakdown.

Did one sensible thing this week, I kicked out media player 11 and reverted to 10.
I have it tuned to favourite radio station and now it is simply a matter of pressing play;
no more waiting for media guide. Radio tuner and god knows what offers.
Simply play to play.

Office 2000 is annoying me because it starts to install every time I call up an application, which is often, so will have to find a way to stop it.

This week P.C. has had full history, file and cookie cleanout, scan for viruses, adware, spyware, and malicious software. All files have been checked and errors fixed before and after defragging. Full System scan with Norton reported all clear.
Set a system restore.
So am left with only a couple of niggling complaints.
Still have a system back up to do.

Spent a choice half-hour on Bi-polar forum, a couple of the nutters are having a rough time and we as caring nutters offer advice and encouragement. Useful site to all.

12:39 Am knackered! That’s only the second day’s exercise since? August.

Ventured onto Logitech’s site and downloaded updates for mouse and messenger, hopefully that may fix problem; not too bothered if it doesn’t.

15:03 Couple of hours wasted on You tube and blog.

Could murder a rollie or better still a joint now. “No use exercising and then smoking”, I tell myself.
It’s normally this time of day when craving for a smoke is strongest.
I seem to have conditioned myself to not crave early morning smokes.
Few more weeks and I think I’ll have beaten the cravings.

Have managed to keep off stumble for a couple of days.
Perhaps may get some studying done in next few days; really have neglected it recently and I feel so bloody guilty, Why?
I have no one to impress, the study will bring no financial rewards or any other type of rewards for that matter.

I look upon this time of day as time out for myself, a time to let the mind wander where it chooses; to reflect, to contemplate, to solve problems or simply to go blank, switch off.
Deep breathing and minimal interaction with sounds is all I need.
To make me think, that a joint would be very welcome.

Lo and behold, I think someone up there is looking down on me favourably.
I no sooner placed the full stop and there is the voice of my dealer coming up the stairs.
I’d left the door open expecting to go back outside to do some more gardening.
And he has some shit hot skunk in;
always is, isn’t it, shit jot I mean when they are trying to make a sale.

I have a long drawn out guilt ridden argument with the better half of my brain and decided fuck it, I’ve tried the alcohol a couple of times this week and it costs a lot of pennies to sit in the company of daily drinkers, and to be truthful renders little in the way of reward.

I just fancy kicking back for a few hours, listening to sounds and surfing.

Obviously I have nothing in the flat so will have to go to shop for joint papers and baccy;
will give half of baccy to neighbour, on second thoughts f88k him!
I think of a way to treat myself at the shop and decided a large container of milk will go down well.
I’ll explain;
after using powdered milk for almost thirty years I enjoy a couple of pints of milk now and then, even though I’m supposed to steer clear of dairy produce following massive heart attack, but a little of what you fancy?
Surely is harmless.
I have fag in right hand and it is smoking away while I type, it tastes disgusting to tell the truth, the skunk smells good. Wish I had a vaporiser and then I wouldn’t need the baccy in the equation.
Funny I thought vaporiser would have a u as in vapouriser. I feel I may be right but have come to accept the majority of corrections offered by my friend the spell check.
I break to go to shop.
Could hardly walk to car, legs and back are stiff and hurting.
16:05 First joint, first couple of draws and suspicion is welling up in my mind that possibly the gear isn’t as good as reported to be.
I tell myself to relax and chill, few more decibels on chill out vibes.
I wonder to myself if anyone has tried the 777-radio station out because of my mentioning it in dispatches?
I draw deeper and the smoke burns the back of my throat, a mouthful of chilled milk solves that problem. The beat quickens and I type to keep up with the sounds, then realising it was hopeless I concentrate the mind on another instrument which isn’t playing so fast, deep breathing..,,,,,accompanies each deep draw; half way down and still no sign of a welcome.
I take another breath but smoke free this time as I turn to gaze through the cream voiles to the view outside.
I say view, I use the term very loosely, I can actually see four flats opposite me, five foot of Leylandi tree above their roofs. I can of course see the sky and in the gap between the flats I get a peek at a distant wooded hilltop.
I’m sat gazing at the semi opaque scene and my mind wanders off and I realise that after inhabiting this earth for over fifty years and despising every single piece of net curtain I’ve had the misfortune to gaze upon.
Cost me £600 for blinds for the last house. I realised.
On Sunday I had a walk into my father’s allotment. Bloody stupid when you think of it, two men pointing to a piece of ground which looks identical to the rest of the plot and gesturing with arm movements indicate where the next crop is to appear.
“This is tatties”, he’s say, No it fucking isn’t I’d think, it’s and area of soil.
“That’s beans and peas”. I repeat my thought.
And there’s me onions”, he finished,
“Yes”, I replied,”I can see them”.
I of course had no interest whatsoever, all I was thinking was wouldn’t it be nice to sit and have a cigarette after having such a blow out meal!
I’m beginning to fall in love with my grammar check, now that must be sign of some form of drug-induced emotion? For want of a better and no so pervee, geekish, first instance of total memory loss.
I couldn’t for the fucking life of me remember what I was writing, couldn’t even form an association with last word written. Wouldn’t come back either, I didn’t try too long to remember because the feeling that something had gone completely was felt so strong within me that I was convinced.
I remember now it was word.
Now come on all you medical students and trainees for the caring services. Tell me what I’ve just gone through and what I’m going through now.
I breath out and am taking great notice, no have an increased awareness of the movement involved in the action and the release of the breath allows a sense of release from the body and release which brings on relaxation; or as much relaxation and relief from pain as you can expect with a head that feels like lead and is definitely too heavy for your neck.( in your opinion).
Well that was the verbal diahrria, can never spell that fucking word! Out of the way, let’s return to the story shall we?
How do you spell the sits? Diorrejhea. I’m leaving a few spelling mistakes in to give the reader an idea into what the initial draft looks like.
I return to the bosom of my spell check.
Like I was saying there we are in his garden and the last thing, (spelling istakes coming thich and fast now!)>.
I quite like some of them, I consider the possibility of learning to type rubbish.
No listen, stick with the stoned nutter on this one, at least to the next stop, when I promise I will return to the story.
FI the frist asd lsat lretres ade right thkn yio woll be albel to reid it.
Am definitely not going to try that again, took some effort with mouse to get all ignored!
I pause to drink from my porcelain cow.
The phone interrupted the pleasure of the cool liquid slipping down my parched throat,
There it goes again. This time I manage to get connected without the phone falling on the floor, it’s my father.
He asks about me and then informs me my Auntie has come through her knee operation and then he gives me a poser, he bets I couldn’t guess where he’d been today and then he tells me he has just got some “bloody good muck in”.
Sensing a victory I slip in with, “that’s where you’ve been today getting shit.
Yes, he says but you will never guess what kind of shit.
Deflated, but defeated I sit back in the chair, phone hugged under chin and
I skinned up,
This wasn’t going to be easy a voice inside me said, he’s already duped you once.
I went through every known type of animal shit I could think of.
Before, finally, getting sick of him saying No, I gave in.
Impala, he replied,
Got four bags, by they’re really friendly.
Must be, I think, to give you four bags.
My head shakes from side to side in disbelief as I realise the smoke has gone, finished.
Best time to have another!
I seem to adopted a way of writing short liners, there I go again.
What about the garden you ask, well it wasn’t so much the garden but as I was looking at the voiles , seems a long time ago now, doesn’t it.
I thought to myself I’d love nets but they would have to be something special.
Well there we were in the garde and he showed me his oversized, 10 by 8 cold frame.
I gasped in amazement and before I knew it I had sworn!
“You Bastard”,I said.
What’s up he asked,
The netting, I gasped.
Yes, cost forty pence in a charity shop.
“Forty fucking pence”, I repeated.
It’s brilliant, I’d have loved that.
I’ll explain it was brilliant, it was net curtain with Chinese lettering as the pattern and the remainder was very fine.
I remember thinking while looking at the voiles earlier how nice that 40 pence cold frame cover would have looked at my window.
I did seriously consider going up one night and removing the cover as one would remove a work of art from its’ frame. Very nearly did. Thank god for Olanzapine to quell any such thoughts let alone debilitate any ability to carry out the actions in the first place.
You know what I meant to say.
So you see, when you learn to relax, empty your mind and go with the flow you never quite know your final destination.
I break to roll. I like a stone that allows me to function, but delivers a pain killing service with an inbuilt relaxation program.
Sounds like something you’d buy from Q.V.C.
Anybody bought off there?
Don’t buy something just before you are going to bed, they’ll get u out of bed.
I suddenly realised I turned the sounds down when he phoned, I apply several decibels and my mood heightens, there is an oriental sounding instrument droning on like that used by snake charmers, and ii move my head slowly from side to side as if mimicking the hypnotised snake’s dance, all the while trying to loosen the tension around the base of my neck and up into the back of my head.
That’s correct I was going to keep track of what was happening to me and hopefully people will be able to judge if such behaviour is flamboyant enough to warrant me getting sectioned again.
I was asked what I did with my time and I told them I liked to write, learn and expand my mind by going in whatever direction for whatever purpose I chose to follow. Stupidly I admitted using Cannabis to “help me”.
I was diagnosed as bi-polar manic-depressive, experiencing psychotic incident fuelled by use of Cannabis.
They told me I wouldn’t be able to write when stoned and that I was fantisithing, now that’s what I call a spelling mistake.
I reach a plateau, NOT a low, the inspiration, which I felt, has gone and I feel a little deflated at not having real sense of direction in my writing.
Or perhaps I write that way on purpose, mimicking the long drawn out monologues of the stage performers and stand up comics.
Yeh, I fucking liked that curtain and if you are beginning to get any doubts about my sexual preferences because I seem to have unearthed an emotional episode sparked by the search for the acceptable lace curtain, which so many people have hidden behind, afraid of the knock on the door every rent day, or catalogue day.
I put a full bud into this joint and took notice of the smell from my fingers as I licked the skin, it smells fresh, slightly damp and has homegrown smell to me.
O.k. it is a little damp but allows it to burn slow.

Anyone fancy a week in Amsterdam with a 50-yr.old stoner. That amused me the thought of being too old to stay in some of the more hip stoner friendly hotels. Thankfully there are some with no such age restriction.
Am I a different smoker at 50 than when I was, say 30?
Too bloody true I am, for a start the circumstances of my life are totally different and over the past few years with the demise of regular smoke parties due to the introduction of random drug tests at work I have become the loner stoner, which must surely be the last stage on this journey of enlightenment.
I use the word,
A) as a joke, and
B) By giving the medical fraternity a glimmer of a hope of saying I’m fantasising.
Half way down this smoke and there is a tribal drum track playing it gets my attention, I apologise for taking time out.
My neck falls back as I take a deep draw; it cracks loudly in my head, mingling with the sound of the drums and my tinnitus battling it out.
I’m drawing ever deeper as the music gets more threatening in nature and the drums are joined by a multitude of other instruments.
Almost to roach before stone showed its face! Coming on now.
Legs crossed, one dead with lack of circulation and motivation the other one outstretched bearing its partner’s dead weight. Feet tapping up and down to rhythm of drum section, dead foot tries to join in sporadically but just to say manages a simple one two and then rest.
Am disappointed, expected more of a stone, still feel there’s further to travel than this.
Track’s been playing now for over ten minutes and I’m getting sucked into the background surging flows, ebbing and then teasing.
I REALLY should get out more!
Could be sat in some empty club or pub watching someone else’s television, listening to some drunk’s life story or be befriended by someone on the cadge.
I swap legs over and the momentary rush of blood back to the limbs fair makes my old body tremble.
All is right with the world, or at least in my world.
It’s the best it’s going to get, with what I’ve got.
I’d prefer to sit here gazing through the window at the changing dying sunlit sky.
I partake once again from the porcelain cow and consider my options while trying to get my mouth moist without sticking my tongue to the top of my mouth, causing painful loss of skin upon release!
I ramble, reminds me of the traditional funeral song, of New Orleans “Didn’t he ramble?”
Played sad and then full belt, not many of them left now, no one left to play.
The thought saddens me, the reality still hides from me behind possibility.
I take a sharp change in direction and decide to have a break, have a joint.
Now I suspect that quite a few of the youngsters out there would be absolutely shit faced by now and up to all sorts of laddish behaviour.
I panic, realising I haven’t saved since I started I rectify the matter.
Just had a peculiar thought about everyone who toked getting access to a computer and making a vid of them selves smoking, and screen it on TV.
(I’ve had this idea before, when I was “crazy”).
Limit time to ten minutes each, screen in multiscreen mode and let viewer choose which to view full screen with one corner still viewing other films.
You could have a side feature five minutes, which has to be filled with talk upon whatever subject you choose but you have to be stoned, any one deemed to be acting will be removed to bottom of viewing lists.
Stoner’s TV; Where the fuck is it?
Are we all too stoned to organise it?
Start with network of cams set up on a grid connection in groups small enough to be cosy and invite interaction.
Numerous opportunities are available for competition ideas.
I ramble
Can’t we make it a recognised category?
Comic
Adult
Sci-fi
Stoner, (Bud ratings shown). Have our own symbol, Bud it. Fuck the stars.
I have seldom had such pleasure from doing so little for so long a time.
Bud crackles in joint and I automatically look to see how far it has burnt down and gauge how much should be left and therefore how realistic is the idea of getting any higher?
Now I’d say I’m getting to the end of the time when I will be able to type, stone has hit pretty hard on back of head and my neck is twisted and thrown to one side and then reeled back; pain flowing along twisted alleyways.
Bit dramatic but does the job. An inner shaking is coming on with feeling of para;aysis of some of face muscles, neck finally collapses, to heavy to lift is the head , eyes strain to look down yo keuboard, mouth dry feeling of inweell in stomach, arms dead, as when happened before episode. I stop, for fear of an attacl.

I went and lay on the bed for a while relaxing as many muscles as possible while listening to sounds from front room. Obvious lay and not laid, Pillock.
That last section of writing really took an effort to get it into the blog; my arms and fingers were totally fucked up and useless. Not an ounce of strength.
As you will see I had to exit with haste and didn’t have time for no fucking spell check this time around. When I get that feeling coming on I no longer want to congregate with strangers talking shit for hours on end.
Give me a comfortable, safe, place to lay and some sounds and I’m sorted.
I can honestly say with my hand on my heart that the only times I get any noticeable relief in my pain level is when I’m stoned.
I’m addicted to the gamble of being pain free, the possibility of success weighed against the dealers record. A gamble everytime.
I remember the “good old days” when Made in England meant more than made in Taiwan lets show ‘em we can grow it; apparently rumour has it that some very successful, British? English strains are coming to the fore and will be serious cup challengers in the near future.
The previous statement may or may not be true, its up to you to find out.
I wrote it to feel good, didn’t work.
A second wind comes into my body as some of the neck muscles ease and my head and shoulders fall appreciatively as the pain releases its hold.
My feet are still tapping away like automated puppets, I’m listening to the voice of my favourite actor doing a talk over on top of a simplistic tune about when there was nothing; in the beginning,
the talking halts aggressively and a rhythm bursts into life, gets quite boring then until another change in tempo and content brings in a percussion section with scratch and low voice modulation effects. Voice speed up compensate for low effects, mix of scratch and voice meaning scratch of voice, with heavy back beat keeping everything rolling along nicely, even takes time out to do a solo before being joined by piano and re introduction of voice effects.
Next track. Totally different, hard metallic, brash drums beat, may be what some call garage, hell what do I know?
Infusion of high sweet mellow flute part is over rum with unusual staccato sound effects akin to a wireless out of tune.
A thought came to me while I was laid on the bed, I really don’t spend enough time listening to my sound education. My mind absolutely loves the idea and accepts whole-heartedly, unquestionable faith in there never been a recognisable note played. Nothing, to invoke the action of memory; every note unique in its sound its effect and its place in time.
Having a struggle with grammar check.
Break for a joint 8:33:28 PM.
Maybe just as well I couldn’t be bothered to set cam up.
Grammar check is taking the piss by offering me the same advice regardless of nature of enquiry. The sounds change and I’m listening to something very similar to early jean Michelle.
I sometimes wonder if its because of my ability to play from dots that I have turned towards something which feeds me interesting music 24/7 over which I have no part in selection whatsoever, I’m not bombarded with facts, figures, bibliographies, store offers or anything. Just pure sound filling the room, no questions needed to be asked; just shut up and listen for as long as you choose.
It is at times like this when life does take on some value.
Only half way down joint and getting mild buzz.
Has very little smell, but there again it is fresh, definite one to have plenty of cold drink available. Don’t think I would mix it with drink, may turn a bit awkward with capabilities somewhat.
Hate that fucking word its so fucking akward, see got it wrong again!
Feeling relaxed more, leave it in.
Could I label these sounds Futuristic?
I’m reminded of my first and only guitar a Futurama, get it? Future!
I apologise to anyone who has stumbled across this,
I have to cater for a readership which are more than likely more wrecked than I am writing this so I have at odd times; got to fully explain any critical twist in the tail, that is assuming that such a change in direction has indeed taken place.
Well some of the effects sound like Bender speaking, I’m a great fan of Bender, see how I treat the man with respect and give him a capital letter.
There always was a gap in my life as my role model Dyllan in Magic roundabout disappeared when the kids reverted to the mentality of the tele tubbies.
I fucking ask you, no wonder some of the kids are weird.
No, Bender took Dyllans’ place, I had thought of adopting Homer for a while, steered towards the clansmanship of king of the hill but settled upon bender.
Down to earth dependable piece of scrap iron, that describes the pup of a Skoda I bought from new, god was I shafted. Wrong coolant in engine and ate away at the head, Was to be replaced at first service, I don’t take mine in till thousands of miles, I drive little.
I tend not to if smoking; spoils the ambience if one has to take anything resembling a decision.
On a scale of one to ten I’ll be hovering around 7. Mouth dries up and lips stick together, luckily no skin peel. Drink of cow juice needed.
What puzzles me is why anyone in their right minds be compelled to write or draw or produce sounds or any myriad of other talents.
Then there’s the people like me the mentally unstable who, honestly I forgot for a moment where I was !
I was going to say the people like me, the mentally unstable are unable to hold information and therefore have the memory span of the proverbial goldfish, at times, only at times,
Usually the most inopportune of times mind you.
I did come up with a suitable ending to this session whilst laid in bed but as per usual I’ve, you’ve guessed it,
I’ve forgotten it.
I remember laid in the back of the ambulance, wouldn’t be front now would it?
I’d been given a hypo of a very fast acting painkilling drug, I enjoyed the hit so fuckin much I punched the air with my fist.
Apparently this is not a good manoeuvre when attached by wires to machines, the alarms go and you are rewarded with,
Another hypo of it and you hear him say just hollow if you want some more, I managed to say thank you and god bless before slipping into oblivion.
I thought helluva trip equals heart attack, the trade off of some memory loss in return for pain relief and an answer to so many different people from all differing walks of life who get their own individual experiences is not as severe if possibly a little less rewarding in wow effect.
It has been a struggle at times not to try out the class A drugs which were going round, perhaps my love of the stone kept me true to the weed.
I’ve never taken heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, but would love to read a piece about some one who can describe being on it, that would be fun, may have to be audio only but what the fuck.
While I was skinning up the voice inside my head asked me what would be your one wish?
I answered almost immediately to live in Holland and get my benefits paid, I’d like to sit back for a while and watch a people I respect go about their daily lives.
I don’t want to get wrecked out of my skull 24/7, I’ve done that.
Had a tussle with grammar check and it suggested a full doc scan; fuck that!
Could it be true that writers write best, when they have nothing to write about, now isn’t that stupid?
I go stumbling on.

Shouldn’t have lit this one up
have stumbled on a classical archive site and am trying to understand how to get copied text into page,
i.e. where in page and after or between which marks,
Anyone out there?
Problem solved when I realised presence of add page element button for html,
was trying to inset all sorts of code into all different places in edit mode!
Who’s an old stupid sod.

I suppose if it wasn’t for the challenge and the having experienced the manic side of computer use to excess, I wouldn’t put my brain through these daily challenges.
Use it or lose it.

Perhaps that’s why people like us have poor memory we seldom have any need to try to remember because most of it is clouded over with the effects of drug misuse anyway.
Stone’s mellowed out and put me on an even keel, sounds are pleasant .
I take the time to give the last inch of the joint the respect is surely deserves,
whilst thus occupied I thought about, fuck it forgotten, perhaps I chose wisely, a large screen tv for internet searching for sounds, surfing and writing, odd smattering of porn if and when required,

I just realised the other night while laid in bed wondering why I’d been persuaded into having this V box when I’d just discovered the range of channels available to the surfer!
Back to the revelation this is only the third piece of equipment which has had an optical connection, seeing as my Amp was one, dearly departed and hugely missed.

Talking about huge, there’s fucking huge spider just walked the length of one wall,
he stops then off again, I hate spiders.
I thought I was hallucinating at one time but managed to convince myself that the house was old and therefore wick with them and if I insisted on sitting up for days on end I would stand a greater chance of seeing them.
I almost managed to convince myself
but sometimes they were strange coloured specimens.

I digress as usual, as is my want, also my want is liquid,
I have abandoned any thoughts of preparing a meal, a day of abstinence, after that painful experience this morning, remember, I think I would benefit by a clear out.

Milky bar kid rides again.

You can have your shooters and flaming whatsoever and I’ll stick to my chilled milk, sounds and smoke.

Can both parties be so wrong, I think not.

Shit, I fell of me soap box, revolutionary body repair by Bender and I’ll be a well nutter bunny again.
Just thought I’d slip that one in for anyone still trying to label me.

Whole tone of music has changed to suit the time of day;
now that is clever or completely untrue, simply my imagination,
no clues are given because the sounds are continuous, save a for a stupid advert meant to bring you momentarily back to reality just long enough to allow yourself to look around and convince yourself that all is well.

Lets face it one of the problems of being an older toker is that you need solitude and peace and quiet or ambient surroundings and definitely no disturbance.
I’ve just been brought up short by a thought, my daughter knew me when I was a hop head and must have decided quite soon after not to have anything to do with me, or was her distance a proof of the success of an agreement made in times of anger and confusion as a term of an amicable split.

I bounce back up like the resilient chap I am.

Another plus of smoking on your own is that you cant go further than your mind is,
you don’t get some jackass butting in and saying something to make you say I never thought of that well what the fuck are you doing but thinking about it, therefore losing train of thought bummer,
The above is a poor description but I’m trying to be Christian, good smoke, good stone and good god some moron comes along who wants to share his fucking experience with you.
Fuck off.
I suppose that makes me one tight arsed motherfucker.

I will admit full guilt, as my shoulders relax to the lilting strings of several guitars.
Talking of which I found a deposit of south park films so can always immerse myself in them if worst comes to worse.
I love that kid in family guy,o.k.
I take a long time to cotton on,
just realise the pedigree of that children’s sheep,
do remember catching it one day when really stoned and thinking this if f88888inh brilliant.

Here’s one for you, the volume is turned down yet the sounds are a hundred percent more prominent in my head, and taking up a lot more of my attention.
To come down from a 500 watt system coming at you through designer speakers of polished chrome to sounds coming out of something bought for less than a tenner off qvc.
The sad part is I’ve accepted the quality of the sound and relish the lack of a remote to have any unnecessary intervention.

God I still remember I put my Yamaha through that baby of a digital converter, I was literally gob smocked, instant creaming of the pants.
Believe it or not but the sound was painful, truly painful to listen to for quite a while the clarity seemed to be so precise it hurt by the intensity it promoted.
At first I was annoyed when I heard this higher quality of sounds reproduction , it was so obviously superior and controllable to anything my ears had ever experienced, hence the period to get used to it. Why hadn't i heard of this before now.
I at last could try and play the instruments as I would expect and also like them to sound.

I stray on to a subject I often return to my enlightenment with music,
I made my peace with the spectra and decided to come out of my cocoon of music books and let whatever was out there lead me by the nose, so far have no regrets
and no desire to move on in any hurry.

A friend knew I was a radio surfer at nighttime, trying to make music out of patches of sounds found up and down the wave lengths.
He said to me one night while in an equally inebriated state as yours truly,

“Look after that radio, it will become your best friend so keep it near”,

I explained I had to sit with one hand on it to get reception because the aerial was knackered., how close does he want?

Idea for project to involve video editing, looks like I’ll be off in another direction once this course is finished. Possibly new hobby. Dylan’s influence again, leading me the straight and narrow.

I seemed to have missed out on so much in the past, the huge surge in the popularity of meaningless jigsaws flew straight past me. So did playing with ringworm.

I take a swift glance at the clock and seem to me today has been quite a session and my ability has remained pretty constant throughout,
I apologise for use of pretty bur can’t be arsed to delete.

Should have called my blog Rolex, it just keeps going!

There’s two things I miss, my herb grinder and my fake Rolex,
I liked the look, didn’t care about name, but was often a useful icebreaker,
Everyone would tell you how they knew it was a fake,
As if I wasn’t aware.
It eventually gave up the ghost and I’ve never felt the need t replace it,
so I probably didn’t think too much to it after all.

Fake watches always reminds me of the market at Skegness, fucking row upon row of them, shit everyone’s wearing them.
I could never figure out the extra to be gained by wearing the real thing except to get you targeted by those less well off who see it as redistribution of wealth.

These people wearing expensive jewellery, often on loan,are shadowed by security not flashing their bling to all and sundry in the local on the housing estate.
I drift off unknown to myself until started back from a nothingness as real as any special area.
There’s one for the note books.
I break for smoke.11:50:55 PM