30 th May

30/05/2007
11 a.m.
Had a good night’s sleep and awoke to a breezy but fine day.
Makes a pleasant change to get up to a tidy flat, all washing is nearly dry so at moment place looks like a not too busy Chinese laundry.

Have had a couple of replies from dating agency so uploaded a photo which was one of the tasks to do, check camera prior to going on hols.
Have a winning lottery ticket,£10, to cash today so will probably get double tickets this week, this is the first win this year but live in hope.

Will have to get car ready today, my fishing gear is still in boot from last year’s hol. Should have enough gear but not worried if I haven’t there are plenty of tackle shops in and around Skeggie.
Just got to give the old jalopy a wash down, get rid of bird shit and see what clothes are still in the boot from earlier outings.

Just had a look at ten day forecast for Skegness and predicts showers for every day, looks like I will be spending a lot of time either in car touring around or in club, never mind it will be a break from this place.

Looked at some of the photos of the flat.
How come everything looks better when you see it from a photo, I spend quite a bit of time thinking of ways to alter the flat but when I viewed the photos on the big monitor it looks o.k.

If its not broke don’t try to fix it!
Once again I’m in one of those moods where I don’t really fancy doing a lot; going to take a half hour out and then get stuck in, after all if I can get everything sorted today will have next couple of days to relax.

I think the thought of wrestling to get two duvet covers on is holding me back, I still haven’t mastered the art, I know the basic instruction but somehow I still end up fighting to get the contents into the covers. The thought of a good night’s sleep under clean bedding should be enough to spur me on.

I’ve decided against going shopping for clothes prior to hol, will buy what I want from there, after all there are numerous markets daily in the area.

I’m getting annoyed at the annoying adverts telling of possible demise of Internet radio stations due to proposed increased royalty payments.
Hope some of you have visited save net radio.org.
I’d hate to have to return to commercial stations for my entertainment.

I’m feeling quite pleased with myself for tackling the domestic chores, one more step to being self-sufficient.

I have for the past 20 years had all the housework, cooking, shopping cleaning etc. done for me. Previous to that I had at times to do everything myself, i.e. I dug the place out when it got too bad even for me!

My outlook on domestic chores is akin to my outlook on weeding; I wait till the weeds are tall enough to save bending too far.

Well that’s my scribbling done for now, mail sorted, course work awaiting the return of the tutor from hols, only hope she has found somewhere sunnier than where we are going.
I forgot to mention I’m going with my parents, father as fit as a lop, mother recovering from knee replacement and me in usual lazy mode, don’t think will be an energetic week for any of us.
I’ll just be there to make sure pa doesn’t try to push mother too hard, he thinks everyone like him should be up and running about after the operation and I know ma isn’t up to it yet, to make matters worse she like me has a dodgy ticker so we will have to stick together and keep the old man in check.

By sheer luck I happened to bump into local dealer while I was putting rubbish out.
He was carrying.
He came in and told me of his involvement in a fight the night previous and that he was expecting a visit from the police.
He put his exceptionally swollen hand into his jacket and produced a lump stating it was all he had.
Because of his damaged hand I offered to weigh the lump on my personal scales.
It was noticeably over the half-ounce mark.
Little bit of advice or merely a personal insight.

If your scales are same as mine, the type the Orientals use to weigh produce at market, just hold them at an angle and you can learn very quickly how to stick the pointer at the required weight.

By this time the guy is going through my three pair of spectacles which are on the table beside me.
I then remember; he left his specs when he last called a month or so ago.
I gave him the specs after trying to clean them, Honestly you couldn’t see through them.
“That’s better” he said, “I hate not being able to see”.
How the fuck he ever saw to hit anyone amazes me.
I take a break, being half way y down the second joint.
“I’m long sighted”, he said, “I can see a rabbit taking a shit in a field half a mile away”, he bragged.
“Can’t see fuck all in front of me”,
“I know”, I replied.” You must be long sighted to see through my specs”.

(Gear’s not too bad!).

I return to tale. So puts his specs on and tells me how relieved he his to be re-united with his eyes, I meanwhile have the scales hanging up for him to view..
Pointer stuck on half ounce exactly.
“How much”, I ask,” and don’t forget it’s me you’re talking to”, I add.
“£30, and if you can buy it cheaper, do it”,
“Done”,
So possession of the lump transferred to me with the p[assign of the notes.
I immediately prepared the makings for a three skin.
“That’s a good idea, have one while I’M here and if its shite, I’m here”.
“TOO fucking true!”, I thought, and with a knackered fighting hand.
I finished first one and reported a mild stone possibly coming on, so deal was done.
He is obviously in pain with his wrist, I tell him its not broken just badly swollen.
He tells me he is keeping straight for the coppers appearance.
I mentally sigh with relief, fearing he would try and settle in for the afternoon and smoke the lump.
He then comes out with, “would love a Scotch”,
My whole perspective of him changed, (I myself had planned to get a bottle to finish while on hol).
“Yea, me too”, I uttered.
“I have to go into village to get to chemist for his medication,
he was suffering somewhat and perspiring.
I gave him the money for the whisky £5 and £10 winning lottery ticket and asked him to get me a couple of lucky dips for Wednesday and Saturday, separate.
I stressed separate numbers because I’ve been known to check Wednesdays and then throw the ticket out!
He has thus disappeared upon the afore described mission.
I agreed to buy the Scotch because he had also informed me that he just wanted a couple of snifters because once again he had to stay straight for the cops.
Bingo! He won’t want to share my Scotch either and the prospect of a quiet couple of hours on my own this afternoon loomed ever nearer.
I really am a selfish “Old Hector”.
Second joint finished, sounds changed to meditation genre and volume adjusted accordingly.
And from this moment doubled!
I really love it and cannot understand how anyone can even come close to convincing me that what I am now doing should be against the law.
Hell I’m relaxed, satisfied, and content, at peace with the world and my immediate environment, which is safe, secure and hopefully free from too much interruption.
I have a sound station streaming me new never before listened to or heard before.
Strange mix of sounds ever changing, veering towards new twists turns and genres with every second track.
I have to make a confession, I’ve just had a revelation, almost spiritual, a moment of enlightenment.
I just realised when trying to correct the last sentence that I had no cut button in the toolbar, I’d never used one and there was my companion, the office assistant showing me the light, as he does,
I immediately went into buttons mode and realised instantly that there were a lot of unwanted buttons and as I took them off I ended up with classic cut/paste menu, which I will be using later to make a patchwork quilt out of all this writing.
A drink of refreshing lemonade brings the mouth back from the brink of becoming a dessert bereft of all discernable signs of moisture.
A couple of more minutes and the tongue would have been stuck to roof of mouth, requiring the loss of skin from the roof upon forced release.
We’ve all been there.
Writing about it brings back the pleasant sensation so another quick quaff.
One thing is for certain, today has come to an end and this is the foreseeable future.
Chilling; to sounds and scribbling.
Could it be coincidence?
Last year we went on hol we picked the warmest week on record, this year the forecast is for rain every day!
A normal writer would have returned to the main story theme by now, lest he lost the attention of his readers.
I however have no worries because this writing is in the style of meander.
Its not so much writing as the playing of a tune from an inner set of musical dots on the keyboard.
The wrist action and tempo is similar to what I adopt when relaxed with my Casio.
Yes!, I switched sides, left Yamaha behind,
Fancy smashing up a once£500 instrument because it reminded you of who bought it for you,(ex-partner!).
Triggered of memories, so had to go.
I’d decided to give myself a treat after the Excel; test so I went hunting keyboards and fishing gear in the local, do you know? I can’t remember,
Oh, oh here it comes, like a naughty Labrador returning after having run off and ignored all but the last of your desperate pleads to return.
Cash Converters.
I love that shop, but I only go when I WANT something, never just to browse.
My last reckie some months ago to secure a keyboard replacement,(documented in earlier post). Drew a blank, only one machine but was £700, well out of my league.
However this time I was spoiled for choice,
A Yamaha, but half size keys, as were a couple of others, another pair took my fancy but upon inspection they had 200 songs on board!
Hell I want to play it not fucking listen to it!
Then I spied my present purchase the CTK-900,
I can remember that because its sitting in front of me above the monitor and is clearly emblazoned upon the front.
I explained earlier that when I got it home it was in fact brand new and not second hand as in used.
I dismissed the idea of looking in the manual first and set about exploring the many function buttons.
After about 20 minutes it froze.
All the panel infront of me, the display panel,(haven’t learnt what it is technically yet!), full of fucking numbers and symbols, nothing worked.
I eventually hit the right button and the demo started so I sat and listened while trying to figure out what I’d done wrong.
Demos seemed to go on forever, I even began to wonder if I was playing back some kind of heavily edited version of what I’d been pratting about with by playing several notes in every instrument in the vast range.
Came across quite a few interesting effects, which the Yam never had.
Obviously it fucking had, my yam was 15 yr old or more!
I’m going to have some fun with this I thought.
As long as I can get it working again.
Shortly after the demos finished, after removing the power supply several times and pressing buttons in desperation.
(At one time the key functions were all fucked up and many would actually play musical notes instead of its original function.)
It did eventually return and began to respond.
I chose piano and immediately began to look for the button to lower the octave so I could play comfortably on the octave, which is immediately in front of me when the arms are resting on the chair arms,
Hell, I’m not into physical exercise!.
Couldn’t find one so result was a too low base and a too high right hand.
Yes, I’m a sigh reader!. I admit it, not a true musician, a composer.
I play other people’s dots, interpret or copy style and it gives me pleasure.
So much, I spent the next six hours playing 86 songs the majority,66, being from 1913 to 1970.
Surprise you me picking such an era, I like the sounds and they are easily to transpose into different styles depending on what mood I choose to be in whilst playing.
For the past couple of years I have purposely listened to 95% non-lyrical feeds on the computer and am still unsure which direction musically to follow.
Obviously I’m not talking about the old new age shit.
There seems to be new mixes of sounds coming forward, I feel the freedom of lack of structure somehow when I listen to it,
Order in chaos comes to mind, sometimes ever so slight linkages of sounds during transformations, i.e. changes are sometimes subtle and other times dramatic.
I feel the same as when I first listened to Charlie Mingus and thinking, “What the fuck?”
Kinds almost Creole, (I use the word because it was there in my head, I have no understanding or even know what Creole is about, just came to mind.
After six hours, wrist are hurting a little, been awhile since I played.
I sit; look at the left hand, four fingers and a knackered thumb.
I sit; look at the right one, three working fingers and a semi knackered thumb.
Sounds like a Christmas carol,
No seriously I’ve had tendon damage but still love the keys, I tell myself the exercise is good for the remaining digits.
Would you believe that I find writing whilst gently stoned very relaxing and therapeutic?
STONED
Don’t panic its just an idea for me to search with my newly acquired button.
To make oneself write every day regardless of mood or infringements of the day isn’t always easy. I practise to try and get into some kind of routine but I cannot.
I get up when I awake and switch on the computer and bring up diary, I’ve only been out of bed five minutes,
What could have possibly happened by then to write about?
Fuck all. So you just sit and write anything to get started.
Sometimes that’s all that comes out but at other times you return to the keyboards and something, anything flows out.
I tried to learn o type by watching the letters on the monitor but hell if I look at the keyboard then my neck is supported, relieves some of the neck pain and I can keep track visually of what I’m hitting thus improving accuracy.
So I’ll stick to my methods.
Taking a long time for Whisky to arrive, first feelings of doubt flow through serenity of inner headpiece!
I decided to prepare number three.
Could that be the front door?
No,
Continue with plan A.
I spark up and think to myself, ”Fucking good job I’ve done all the work I’ve done in last two or three days.
See labour does have its own rewards.
I pull heavily on the jay while trying to type with right three fingers.
I take a deep one threw fist, slowly exhale and take another, same method.
Nice!
Not rough on throat, take a double drawing in of breath and hold for as long as possible,
Shit!
That put the lungs under pressure.
· Am I stoned?
· No,
· Could I drive?
· No.
· Can I type?
· Yes.
· Do I know what I’m doing?
· In control?
· ?
· You decide.
· Is my smoking bothering anyone?
· No.
· Am I harming anyone but myself?
· No.
· Do I know the profit margin on licensed sales?
· Can guess!
· Do I have drink available house?
· Yes.
· Am I drinking?
· Lemonade!
· Is my mood aggressive?
· Sit down, you daft twat!
· Am I likely to commit any crime?
· No.
· Am I going to be a burden on the N.H.S. in the next 12 hours?
· Am I going to leave this chair and designed, secure, comfortable, relaxing, saprophytic, contemplative, enjoyable, stimulating, calm, quiet, peaceful,
(excluding the second pang of worry over the arrival of the whisky, or come to that me seeing my money again!) environment.
· Has it took me over two minutes to get bullet in right place after using tabs for previous script?
· Yes.
· Will I never learn not to wear a white tee shirt when smoking?
· No.
· Am I losing anyone their jobs by buying street gear
· ? Can’t think of any.
· Am I providing employment for the poorer families of the world in far of lands?
· Most certainly.
· Anyone ever tell you it affects your memory?
· Or does it merely make it more selective?
· Cannot remember?
· What else could I answer?
· Certainly think my memory is more organised and selective since making conscious effort to be so.
· Any side effects?
· Apart from lung and throat damage, none obvious, except lack of breath and lack of desire to be agile and indulge in movement.

I think I know why I seem to appreciate this often harsh sounding collection of sounds streamed from Radio 777.
It often strikes notes which equal in pitch some of the sounds I hear 24/7 thanks to Tinnitus and as the tuning fork gains harmony with a note struck previously then these odd sounds interact with what I’m hearing and the two belnd momentarily.
Majority of time it is a backdrop of sound playing in the shows of the volume of tinnitus.
Bastard is, if I turn up the machine’s volume the Tinnitus seems to increase to always be the dominant sound.
Takes a lot of concentration for me to enjoy the sounds and a lot of effort is need to try and distance oneself from the everyday experience of listening to the sounds constantly in your head, to say ignore them is too much of a task, but to take ones focus away to be able to concentrate on the majority of the sounds.
Sounds complicated but works sometimes, often the trigger is the impact that the sounds currently playing have upon me.
If they grab my attention I can generally get a few minutes deep listening to them before the high pitched sounds and the throbbing reverberating bass sounds of the tinnitus re take centre stage.
I hardly ever notice it when I’m playing the keyboards, so as well as good exercise it gives me relief from the constant interference in my ears.
I’m also tone deaf, so my examiner told me.
I’m thinking bottle of Whisky and helping with enquiries.
A drink of pop and thinking this series of sounds is getting on my wick, a reverberating out of tune cracked bell played every few seconds and a bass beat, thankfully the bloody bell has stopped and a nice bass beat is slowly dragging other sounds for a few second solo before returning to someone’s voice pad.
· Thoughts on third joint?
· Not bad.
· Thoughts on anything?
· No.

I look briefly at the office assistant; I look into those large appealing eyes and can almost imagine his thoughts and feelings.
Have you ever seen the look on the proposed recipients face when the person with the joint offers then withdraws the joint?
That’s what he reminds me of, his eyes close seductively, pleading with you to share the delights of the five skin between your fingers.
I take a quick glance through the window to see if the white coats are around, no sign,
Front door.