Still with jobs to do.
Living Freudian.
Feeling deprived. Spent and sated.
The crusty cloth of misunderstood desires and fixations.
The rattle and release of energy.
The consumption, the constant, disgusting consumption.
My mind is grey black. Only rarely are moments inspired “these days”
The times. Time gone, never to be regained or recaptured.
Photography, our self illusion. Our star map. We are the stars, the twinkle of parents eyes. Freudian.
Misssaid. Missaligned. Miss. Miss. Miss.
Her. Here. Hear. Hare. Hair. Cut.
Wrists. Blood. Missspelling. Misspelling. Is this going to be ok?
Probably not. Unfollowable. A bull. Able. Able Tasman. Here we are.
Nature. Lets go for a walk.
“What do you do most of the time?:”
I work.
What else?
I have hobbies.
It depends on the weather and how I’ve been feeling.
Feral.
Ferralling. Feuts. Twins. Fatalistic.
Plans, control. Organised reality.
Everything. Stand to reason.
Happening. Span of control.
Lack of understanding.
Tinder.
Momentary, luck. Hot or not.
Sickness of passing.
Prowling. Watching. Fearing.
Shallow. Hurdles.
Barriers for entry.
Running. Usain Bolt.
Bottle.
Sweat. Swerve. Swill. Swell. Waves. Watches. Time. Tick tick tick.
Tock tock tock.
Pendulum. RobotHEART. People that add. People that detract.
Lets move inside. Lets change it up.
Talk about football. Bore bore bore bore.

What’s the first thing that comes into your head when I say Trumpet?
DORIAN BROOMHALL- I saw him recently.
Oh yeah? Cool. What’s he up to. (I don’t care)
When the convocation doesn’t go where you want it to.
What can you do?
Anyway! I think of MAMBO NUMBER 5, And like the moment, when the guy says “the trumpet!” Followed by cutting to the baritone baratone. barratone.
Ba-da-ba-baaa- BA-BA.
“that’s the baritone, not the trumpet”.
Yeah I know…

YOU DID THE HANDS FOR THE BARITONE.
-I know.
That’s not the trumpet!
ITS THE FIRST FUCKING THING THAT COMES INTO MY HEAD.
He does say “The trumpet, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know…”
“Ok…”
“Look I don’t want to talk about it, but I think I’m right”.

What a stupid fucking immobile thing to say.
Your stagnant brain, uncomprehending, noncommittal, wasted goop.
After sharing my thoughts, you do, YOU SAY… THAT.
Some people, some times.
People, time, things.

Sick.

Accommodation.
Course Approval.
French Test.
OS Help Loan.
Insurance?

Run away, find better people.

Birthday has been and gone 25!
Kids alive!
Megan gone, gifts given and brotherly surprise.
Emotional downs and ups, as life delivers daily, freely.

Back to organising my own life.
Exercising, planning, saving, sunning, sweating, swearing,
meeting, asking, thinking, playing, drinking, eating, procrastinating.

I read the book that my friends and lovers made me.
Like a paper plane to the heart, their words made me feel.
Opened up, wanted and known.
It was an emotional wave that rose below my eyes but above my nose.
I couldn’t breath. My body drank in the words and memories.
Salt threatened to pour out of my eyes. My heart, thudding.
The wave passed me.
I sunk to my knees. Thoughtful and full of gratitude. All words had been washed from me away to the fathomless depths.
My heart clear and filled with love.
Life is so beautiful, people are so kind.
Things are so easy to achieve and say.
My barriers and conceits; drained, eroded.
The error of my way so oft the cause of undue stresses.

I believed then,
the truism- actual.
I believe, in love.

The pathetic computer that has been gifter burrs and whirrs.
Not ungreatful so to speak. Just aware that I spend my life waiting for technology to buffer.

Hysteric.
Wasted time.
Time spent being wasted.
Drunk and dasterdly.
Tiny thoughts and a forgetful mind. Social worth barely a gift. My own study of what it it to by typifying. Success as lucky as rolling a double six.
Timing and talent. But neither of which is a gaurantee.
Silence is suspect.

Run away, broaden your horizon. Run out of time.
Die – not even trying.

I miss my girlfriend.
I need, NEED NEED NEED. OCD time. Decorate, do art, organise, time; to perfection. Relax. Consider. Buy, prepare, advise, tell and guess, and suppose.

Why is everything with a time. I will do when I want what I want and not before.

That honest call; now this has happened I can move on. Focus, delegate, choose and grow.

So I get drunk. Forget, grow fat and chatty.
Pah.

Let us be idealistic.
Think sensibly.
Be selfish, mature, adults.
Demonstrate what it means to be in charge of your life.
In charge of your body.
Peerless. Fearless.
Progressive.
Speak only on topics that truly intrest you.
Run every day.
Grow thin, energetic, die anyway.
But maybe you’ll be working hard and so often you wont have time to be negative. Being a child at play “keeping busy”.

Vanity. Naïvety.
My dubious thoughts surrounding groups of people remain.
The individual intentions of each person.
The trust system.
Looking at myself, realising my how. Imperfections and by way of reflexivity; everyone is capable of ruinous behavious.
Frightening.

Happy Haugust. 25 soon, which means quarter life crisis.

Oh, what it has been.
Quite a good old time of it in comparrison I suppose.
White hot coal, fuels my leg.
Each breat I take is followed by a billow of ash as my thoughts roll. Foaming hatred from the sides of my mouth.
Vile. Rage-filled. People and their actions.
Cesspit-groups.
Individuals that are worthless.

I promise not to hang out in groups again.
I pick up on your mood, feelings, your AURA. Ha.
This bullshit takes me.

I feel sorry, sorry for myself. Having not wrote more and sooner. Memory is such a fickle device.
What has happened up until now. What will I prioritise, remember. Will it all stick? Will it all effect me? Am I affected, even now?
Hindsighting perhaps. Waste.

Life is one big tragedy broken up with moments of joyous respite.
The taint and anger of the past has resurfaced amd reminded me of my dubious outlook on life.
Trust nobody, share nothing, put your walls up, everyone wants something from you and they will take what they can. Be selfish.
Be angry.
Deny, lie, kill, steal, cheat.
Its ongoing. Its them. Everyone, cut from the same cloth. A reminder of the horrors people can inflict on one-another.

And it makes me sick. Ill. Depressed and angry.
I had forgotten this feeling.

The lense has been wiped clean.
Steamy breath.
My lips parted below my red visor.
Outwardly disgusted.

The window to life;
Glistening with new perspective.
Fresh, scintillating
Wiped clear.
An icy chill.
Eyes like tomb stones.
To blink is to eat death.
Stones crack.
Fists rattle by my sides.
A ghast, waves and fits riddle across my being.
Fury at a primal level.
Beastly rage.
Aghast. Shaking. Ghostly.
Thoughts of murder.
Gutters or blood.
Weather of hail.
Raining down absolute anguish.

Bastards.

When your outputs are next to zero.
Are you being.
Is it ok?
The fresh air that you’re breating.
Trees take over.
Cognition, the irony or tree vengance.

The twist of the villain being a gnarled tree.
Afflicted. Tormented. Deranged.
Fallout.

Life, death and taxes.
Disproved by google.

Tonigth we wine.
Irony.

I feel that I…
HUMANS…

*stares at hand + goes cross eyed.

Ah yes, well said.

Everybody is deranged,
crazy, weird, is different.

Narcoleptic? Dreamers awake or otherwise.
Strange even.

We’re all neurotic.

I say thoughts and ideas;
as ludicrous, horrible or wrong as they may seem; sound or come across out loud.
Sometimes to myself (if nobody else is around).
But other times to the people that surround me.
They think I’m strange.
The thought would have been executed, expunged, shared regardless I’d like to think… out loud.

The tone is what’s important.
Said seriously.
But the content is skew-if.

People raise an eyebrow.
Unsure at the strange content.

People react very differently.
Misalignment in people.
“You’re welcome”
*the topic change*
(The anger/confusion)
-The miscommunication
#misunderstanding.
Questioning looks.
Reactions.
:Are you joking?
:Why would you say that!
+Because I thought it. That’s why.
And thinking something is important.
If it doesn’t agree with who you are,
Who you want to be. Cast it.
Words are fodder.
Entertainment.
Like everything.
Break boundaries.
Turn up or down the gradient of your filter.
Show more of your nature.
Be natural.
Casual even.
Release yourself.
Embrace a life lacking inhibitions.
Be a yes and a no person.
Suffer readily.
Be sure of yourself.
Take the hits, celebrate your honesty.
Be praised.
Be different.
Show your colours, your vibrant energy that sets you apart.
Unique.
Special.
Be the connection between the fabric of realities.
By synonymous with the words you want to be, if you can, if you let yourself.
If you’re lucky.

Jobs done.
My job is done.
I’ve done my job.

I had some jobs that needed doing.
I am sated.
Tomorrow I will need to approach my shift with a clear conscience.
My mother has one year to live.
Time is more important to me than money.
And money remains the main reason for doing this job.
I wish I could have linked the rewards to something deeper.
Something more intrinsic. But I have to look after her.
I have to spend the time that she has left looking after her and stop her bouncing off the walls.
She’s gone to her sisters for this week.
The family is pretty shocked.
So yeah.
Lay down.
Lie.
Layers.

Talking about suicide.
With the knowledge you have would you go back and change something?
Can you stop someone killing them-self?
If they can take their own life, would they be able to take yours?
Do you feel safe, having let a person like that into your life?

I masturbate once per day.
That way, freeing myself of those desires;
I can more closely attune myself to
MAZLOW’S NEED’S THEORY.
Mazz-low.
What a jerk off of a name.
Great ideas though.
Interesting to think that you can fulfil your needs out of turn though.

Tonight I watched the Kettering Incident.
It was brilliant!

Camomile.
Oolong.
Early Grey.
English Breakfast.
Lemon & Ginger.

Watched the latest Sacha Baron Cohen film.
Grimsby.
It was terrible.

But brought to light the question of valid existence for me.
How you perceive the usefuleness, the compatability and goodness of some people.
You can’t.
Morally, everyone is good.
There aren’t people that can be “put down”.

Terrorism is not O.K.
Capital punishment. Is not right.
This is because the value of human life cannot be quantified.
People are valuable.
Useful. Helpful and good.

Opportunistic- maybe?
Resourceful.

How can we keep the population at a reasonable level?
Why is education so important, and why is there a correlation between education and lower reproduction rate?

What is the globes future?

The tragedy of death is found in its occurance before its percieved “time”.
If death is expected and welcomed there is no fear.
To embrace a more permanent stage.
The transition that is life.
The change. Passing on your genes is important, for excellence in the future.

You can only create a child.
Only create a good-child if you find yourself and choose to reproduce with someone willing, that has also found them-self.
The loving, supportive family creates a child with an unbroken, wholesome soul.
That soul may excel.

But like all beautiful and loved beings.
Do not squeeze, or possess tightly so to smother.
Never asphyxiate, or become claustrophobic.
Do not inhibit, hinder or harm.
Platonicism.
Love.
Communication.
Support.

Too.
To.
Two.

Too much.
What is too much.
Too many “o”s.
Too many. Objective.
Subjective.
Obscure.
Strange.
Too hard. Too much. Too many. Too late.
Ad-verb?
Wasteful.
Very.

So the tragedy of death isn’t death.
It’s the impracticality of timing.
If you still had a big-long list of things to do and you died.
That’s horrible.
People fear that.
I fear, leaving the oven/ovan on. Ducking out to buy some yoghurt.
Boom, run over by a car.
Tragedy.

I feel my death is coming soon.
I’ve been thinking about it a little.
Day-dreaming.
I don’t know why.
I have these glossy moments, where I find small, useless moments quite beautiful.
Picturesque. Slow. Fantastic.
And I think. “This happens when you die”, “I wonder if that will be soon for me”.
Then it ends.
But it puts me in a strange mindset.
My mood shifts.

I nearly ran away today.
Mum was saying some strange stuff.
She’s going to die in one year: the doctors said.
Because of her bad liver.
That’s OK.
She’ll hopefully live longer than that.

I think I’ll quit my job in the next couple of days.
I have a lot on my plate.
Books to read.
Time to spend with mum.
I can’t be bothered with work.
It doesn’t add.
Time is more important to me at the moment.
And i’m blessed.
I’ll put my hand out if I have to.
Dad will look after me.
I won’t run away, like a coward.
I won’t be sad.
I will be proud and happy and positive.
I will move on, because that is what a son should do.
I have time for people.
Energy. Smiling.
Easy going.
Social.
To the point.
New experiences!
I will die doing what I love and that is completing the big long list of things that will never be complete.
This is my tragedy, this is my life.
I will take my time, I will smile and I will love.
In time people will make their mark.
Bad ideas and negativity, reality: both harsh and unhinged will play theirs parts and try to wear me down.
But I will fight, clown suit, make-up, smile and all for what I believe to be a beautiful, day-dream kind of life. Fleeting and financially coleslaw.

Camping.