16th.April

Today is a turning point for me, I an going to live a life which is mine, to be not envious of anyone else, to be not based on anyone, simple uncomplicated life of existence, nothing more.
One day I’ll come across or even meet a woman who has a job, with only a couple of years to go to full pension. (Yes kids a pension, think about that), her own secluded house, preferably with cellar and garden.
A woman who likes to try different things, listen to different sounds and enjoy meeting different people
A woman who regards herself as being an individual and doesn’t want to become a slave, not that I’m looking for a Dom, even though I wouldn’t object but it’s a hard facet to keep up.
I want a woman who loves to feel younger as the years are Lapped away with a practised tongue.
Life is what you make it.
How many times have I heard those words?
Life is, in fact just that, whatever you decide to make it; and fuck the rest.
Perfect woman?
No such animal. A woman is precious because of her individuality, not her beauty or ability to provide cash and meals on the table.
A woman who can stand tall and command respect in any type of company is one to admire.
A few years ago it would have been a woman with own boat and ability so shell muscles, later I wanted a hor in bed, now I simply seek a companion to grow old with.
I’ve only once in my life had someone who wanted me as a companion and soul mate, unfortunately she mentioned marriage and I was off.
If I remember right I gave my goodbyes with her bent over the upstairs’ washbasin on her wedding day; I had forgotten to get a present!
We come that close to getting married, but after a night’s talking we realised we didn’t trust each other. At all.
I realise once again that tomorrow has come and I must stop.
So good night to you all and as Dave would say, “may your God go with you”.

12:24 AM
Apparently it’s Monday so like Zebedee says. “It’s time for bed”.
“Who’s Zebedee?”
Ask your parents.
If I told you it was a toilet roll inner with huge moustache that had a spring instead of legs you would think I was stoned.
12:32:32 AM the parents are calling the kids to come in. 12:33 AM!
I see this world as a merry go round and I have only enough money for a few rides then I must say good-bye.
Nearest goodbye I came to was following a massive heart attack. I was ready to give in and go, no fuss, but alas not to be, I was brought back and here I am.
Well at least I haven’t been watching the TV all night.
08:58
Not too bad a kip.
Weathers a bit “iffy” today; feels like a cloak is resting over us, if it goes away will possibly be another fine day if it doesn’t will stay shrouded under the mantle.

Padrika Tarrant; No its not Chris’s daughter. It’s the name of a writer who writes some of the most hypnotically weird pieces. She drags the reader into her work and takes them on a surreal journey of the mind.
Good exercise for the grey cells.
Today was going to see me return to study but I’ve already spent two hours looking through some of the work of fellow beepers.
Hence the above reference to the Author; yes she has that kind of mind that can apparently throw out unique sentence structure and combine it with mind-blowing subject matter with ease.
You may gather I was taken with her work.
Her site is http://saltpublishing.com/books/smf/9781844713431.htm

I have only read non-fiction books since leaving college, with the exception of Spike Milligan’s works. I loved the book wrote by his secretary and of course his stories never fail to lift me when I’m down.
This young author may be just the kick in the arse I need to return to reading for pleasure.
I also read some poetry from fellow members; you have to hand it to the beepers they know how to describe the depths.
I used to write a lot of poetry some twenty years ago, added one or two along the way and wrote them all down in a book which I dedicated to my daughter who left my life at the age of three, sounds like she died doesn’t it?
No it was just the usual divorce agreement that we would all go our separate ways.
I was never a candidate for marriage; saying that I’ve just finished a long-term relationship of 23 years. I never liked the idea of anything been down on paper.
Poetry writing for me was usually at times of emotional stress, it was a vent, a way of self analysis and getting rid of excess levels of emotion be that anger, self doubt or whatever ailed at the time.
I intend to go through the blog and find the poem(s) I’ve written lately, but that will have to wait till I’m in the mood to trawl through the pages of dross, which make up my journal.
Turned off visualisations in an attempt to stop stream breaking.

There was an old man who lived in a chair,
Who’s only exercise was to occasionally brush his long hair,
He seldom ate; drank Whisky and mixer.
Proclaimed Cannabis as being his elixir,
He smoked baccy which was often burnt black,
Till one day he said, “I’ll have to stop doing that!”,
If only he could.