Another fretful day of job-hunting, where I was once again given hope of work, only to have it swiped away from my open arms, was followed by a very tight and encouraging band practice. It's nice when something good like that can brighten a day that otherwise would have been full of despair. Sometimes that's all it takes, one good thing to happen to drag you through a shitty days, and make things look just that little bit better before you go to bed.
And, as much as I keep moaning about not having a job - and perhaps I do have valid reason to moan after having been desperately seeking one for nearly 3 months - things could definitely be worse. I have my health, I have my friends - even if I can't afford to go out and do anything with them, I have my band, a house to live in, some clothes that sort of fit me, and probably loads of other good stuff.
Bob Dylan once said that, "A man is a success if he can get out of a bed in the morning, go to bed at night, and do whatever he wants to do during the day", and, to an extent, he was probably right. You shouldn't focus so much on material wealth - although sometimes it does facilitate certain aspects of life. I don't have a job, and therefore money to do a lot of things, but it isn't the end of the world, I just need to try harder and not get too bogged down.
Was encouraged greatly by the numbers of people that seemed to have turned out for the public sector strike today, and it really does show a solidarity from the working class of the country that they aren't happy to take the fall for our failing economy, where perhaps the more wealthy seem to escape more easily. It is a solidarity that I hope will eventually change this country, and prove something to the rich that govern us that something is deeply wrong.
There is a disparity in this country. Unfortunately those that govern us, or rather those in Government (or in our Houses of Parliament) are seemingly so removed from society as a whole that they are hardly qualified to judge it, and even condemn it. Our Prime Minister, for example, as well as his cabinet - and this is no different in the opposition party either - are all from wealthy, middle and upper class backgrounds, where they have never experienced the hardships that life throws at those less fortunate. I'm not saying they haven't worked hard to get where they are - as they obviously have - but it is a different kind of hard work to that that the vast majority of the population have to undertake on a daily basis, where small decisions for the politicians, like those which have sparked this latest strike, are proved to be massive decisions for the average worker. Whether it is entirely accurate or not, and I think it most probably is, those less well off seem to take the brunt of the punishment for our economic crisis where the rich seem to get away easier.
Maybe it is the same for all, and maybe we do ALL have to accept the hardships of digging our way out of this recession, that's not my argument. But these decisions will ALWAYS hurt the poor more. Where you can avoid any section of society hurting - and where someone else is comfortably off - then surely that is wrong. It isn't 'socialism' or ''left-wing' or any other title you may want to give it, it is just humanity and empathy in the face of greed.
Today, Mr Cameron brushed aside the millions of public sector workers striking as just 'left-wing nonsense', just in the same way he brushed aside the riots in August as just a work of troublemakers. Perhaps there is a deeper disparity in society than he, and many others, will ever see from atop of their perch. If you stand at the top of a skyscraper you will see blue skies, vista's, and magnificence - get down to the street level and get immersed in it, and you will see plunder and murder.
Just a thought. Right, now I'm going to let myself down and watch 'Meet The Fockers' on television.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
A Quick Entry
Just a quick entry tonight. I am typing and looking at the keyboard and for some reason my eyes have gone a bit weird and it looks like my feverishly typing hands are miles away from me - must be pretty tired.
I seem to write most of these blogs whilst 'Family Guy' is on on BBC3 late at night. I just want to use this opportunity to say how brilliant I think it really is. I find myself very often slating American comedy shows - thinking that British humour is far superior. But recently I have realised my pomposity, and that there are some really very good American comedy shows about, and that the bad ones are just as bad as some of our bad comedies, and there are surely plenty of those. I love several American comedies, come to think of it - Family Guy, The Simpsons and American Dad are obvious ones, but I also enjoy Scrubs, My Name Is Earl, and some more traditional type sitcoms like Frasier and Everybody Loves Raymond - the later two have been my early morning menu on Channel 4, as I have attempted to train myself to get up early in the mornings on weekdays in case I manage to get a job. I realise I need to change my pomposity in my comic tastes, and to judge programs on strength of material rather than where they come from or who has made them.
Good. That's that then.
Today I have delved further into some job options, visiting briefly another agency for an interview and having further negotiations with Reed, which seems suddenly more hopefull. More to follow with any luck....
Night all.
I seem to write most of these blogs whilst 'Family Guy' is on on BBC3 late at night. I just want to use this opportunity to say how brilliant I think it really is. I find myself very often slating American comedy shows - thinking that British humour is far superior. But recently I have realised my pomposity, and that there are some really very good American comedy shows about, and that the bad ones are just as bad as some of our bad comedies, and there are surely plenty of those. I love several American comedies, come to think of it - Family Guy, The Simpsons and American Dad are obvious ones, but I also enjoy Scrubs, My Name Is Earl, and some more traditional type sitcoms like Frasier and Everybody Loves Raymond - the later two have been my early morning menu on Channel 4, as I have attempted to train myself to get up early in the mornings on weekdays in case I manage to get a job. I realise I need to change my pomposity in my comic tastes, and to judge programs on strength of material rather than where they come from or who has made them.
Good. That's that then.
Today I have delved further into some job options, visiting briefly another agency for an interview and having further negotiations with Reed, which seems suddenly more hopefull. More to follow with any luck....
Night all.
Monday, 28 November 2011
Reason's To Be [Not Very] Cheerful [, Apparently]
I realise that 'Reason's To Be Cheerful' hasn't overly lived up to its title lately, and I'm not sure if today will be any exception. It is late November and Christmas is all around. Decorations are being erected gleefully and the television is awash with festive adverts trying to flog posh food to adults and crappy toys to children. I always picture this time of year in my mind as a kind of steep mountain, which you continue to struggle up to the top all through December, past Christmas, onto New Year's Eve and........and none of it lives up to everybody's expectations, you realise this year's was exactly as disappointing as last year's, and you are left slightly fatter and less well off than you were in the Autumn! But I'm not really into it, but other people love it and must be excited at the weeks to come, and it was always great being a child at this time of year.
Upon awakening this morning I couldn't remember what day it was, and peeling away the curtains to bedroom revealed few answers other than a grey and unappealing sky. Realising there was nobody else in the house I assumed it must be Monday and so slotted myself back into last week's routine of drinking copious amounts of tea and scouring the internet clean of available jobs. Applied to a few more and phoned a couple of the agencies.
Found it hard to really motivate today and it was a bit of a slog to achieve the few things that I did. I can't stand the greyness of everything this time of year. It certainly affects my moods, and it can't help having my job-finding problems. The clear and sunny days are few and far between, and it is mostly bitingly cold, and either raining or the cover of a deep grey blanket of cloud. The leaves have fallen from the trees and most of the birds have migrated. It is quiet, dull, and cold.
Perhaps that is the advantage of Christmas then, the opportunity to add a bit of colour and sound to everything, and break up the long dark winter. For people to have something to look forward to and bring them together.
Upon awakening this morning I couldn't remember what day it was, and peeling away the curtains to bedroom revealed few answers other than a grey and unappealing sky. Realising there was nobody else in the house I assumed it must be Monday and so slotted myself back into last week's routine of drinking copious amounts of tea and scouring the internet clean of available jobs. Applied to a few more and phoned a couple of the agencies.
Found it hard to really motivate today and it was a bit of a slog to achieve the few things that I did. I can't stand the greyness of everything this time of year. It certainly affects my moods, and it can't help having my job-finding problems. The clear and sunny days are few and far between, and it is mostly bitingly cold, and either raining or the cover of a deep grey blanket of cloud. The leaves have fallen from the trees and most of the birds have migrated. It is quiet, dull, and cold.
Perhaps that is the advantage of Christmas then, the opportunity to add a bit of colour and sound to everything, and break up the long dark winter. For people to have something to look forward to and bring them together.
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Depression
Was very sad to hear about the death of Gary Speed, the former footballer, who seemed to have committed suicide overnight. He was only 42 and enjoying a successful career off the pitch following his retirement from playing. It just shows quite how devastating depression can sometimes be.
I have personally suffered from depression, as do many - if to varying levels or severity - and perhaps even maintain an aspect of it as being merely part of me as a person. But there have been times when I have suffered from it particularly badly, and to someone who has never had or dealt with this destructive illness, it is very difficult to describe how it feels. People will say to you 'just cheer up' or 'it isn't that bad' or something, thinking you are just a bit down in the dumps, when it is really a severe chemical imbalance in the brain that can be totally impervious to anything that is said or done.
You can be in the best place in the world and still feel sad, or in a room full of people and still feel lonely, or receive the greatest love you have ever felt and still feel unloved. And you know these things and don't understand how or why you feel this terrible, confused way. You can sometimes see no end, and sometimes no reason to try and reach the end. Nothing matters, and yet you can be so sensitive that everything matters. Anxiety, paranoia and mood swings are all symptoms, and it can make you very difficult to spend time with, let alone live with.
I am perhaps being slightly dramatic in language, but it all seems to be the nature of the beast. Gary Speed is a good example of how the disease can creep up unexpectedly, and for those around, unidentifiably. I hope his untimely death can, if anything, raise awareness for the condition, and help people to seek treatment for it when needed. Because there is help and a way around it out there.
I have personally suffered from depression, as do many - if to varying levels or severity - and perhaps even maintain an aspect of it as being merely part of me as a person. But there have been times when I have suffered from it particularly badly, and to someone who has never had or dealt with this destructive illness, it is very difficult to describe how it feels. People will say to you 'just cheer up' or 'it isn't that bad' or something, thinking you are just a bit down in the dumps, when it is really a severe chemical imbalance in the brain that can be totally impervious to anything that is said or done.
You can be in the best place in the world and still feel sad, or in a room full of people and still feel lonely, or receive the greatest love you have ever felt and still feel unloved. And you know these things and don't understand how or why you feel this terrible, confused way. You can sometimes see no end, and sometimes no reason to try and reach the end. Nothing matters, and yet you can be so sensitive that everything matters. Anxiety, paranoia and mood swings are all symptoms, and it can make you very difficult to spend time with, let alone live with.
I am perhaps being slightly dramatic in language, but it all seems to be the nature of the beast. Gary Speed is a good example of how the disease can creep up unexpectedly, and for those around, unidentifiably. I hope his untimely death can, if anything, raise awareness for the condition, and help people to seek treatment for it when needed. Because there is help and a way around it out there.
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Saturday
A late one this evening. Had a good day of drinking and seeing friends - despite my lack of funds (looks like I won't be doing much this week then!). First of all I had a good time at the football in Brighton with my cousin, and we even won too. My first win of the season. Last year Brighton won almost every game they played but this year good results so far have been few and far between, so it was nice to witness my first one in late November, although I have only been to 3 matches so far.
Had a few drinks with some other friends afterwards and am, despite being at home at midnight, feeling really rather merry! I shall now attempt to make myself some cheese on toast without inadvertently burning the house down.
Had a few drinks with some other friends afterwards and am, despite being at home at midnight, feeling really rather merry! I shall now attempt to make myself some cheese on toast without inadvertently burning the house down.
Friday, 25 November 2011
Friday
For me, today carried on much the way as yesterday. I applied for another stack of jobs, another bit of a mixture but, surely, if I sling enough - and please, excuse the expression - but if I sling enough shit at the wall - and in this case I am the shit, and the job market is the wall - then, surely, some of it will stick. Surely. Unless they've invented some kind of shit-proof paint in the last 3 months. Basically, if I apply for enough then the law of averages at least should dictate that one of them will come good. (Don't worry RTBC fans, just because I am describing myself as 'shit' in a metaphor, doesn't necessarily mean my self-worth has plummeted again.)
Today, I also lighted some scented candles to try and get rid of a weird smell in the bathroom, tried to invent a new type of pizza - which it turned out had already been invented, and filled in some holes with poly-filler. All in all a pretty productive day for a worthless piece of shit.
Today, I also lighted some scented candles to try and get rid of a weird smell in the bathroom, tried to invent a new type of pizza - which it turned out had already been invented, and filled in some holes with poly-filler. All in all a pretty productive day for a worthless piece of shit.
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Counter-Strike!
This morning, after considering giving up, sitting in front of the telly, drinking more wine, and maybe never doing anything ever again - maybe just sit on the sofa until I reach old age, or they cut off the electricity or the house falls down, I decided to hit the offensive. Spent literally all day applying for jobs, all different kinds. Several admin ones, a couple of warehouse jobs, post room jobs, a cleaning job, a caretaker job at a library, a ward clerk at the hospital, and even a stage hand for the Worthing panto production of Peter Pan. Because of the way Reed have treated me this week, and whether or not they sort this job out that I was due to start today, I am determined to find something else if I can so then maybe I can turn this one down.
I have really been lapse in the last few weeks because I've been waiting for this one to come along, and this really shouldn't have stopped me doing something as simple as sending off applications. Almost even applied for a job as a Santa Claus for the shopping centre in Brighton, but spending a month humouring naive children pissing on my knee seemed beyond the call of duty. There were also roles going for elves, but I think I may be too tall. Or is is dwarves that are small?
Either way, I'm glad I was positive today. I was very down last night, and a year ago - when I was struggling pretty badly from depression - I would have reacted quite differently today than I have done. I hope my outlook continues this way, even if work isn't immediately forthcoming. Although I have been actively looking for a job for nearly three months, and somehow still haven't found anything, and we are approaching a difficult time of year for the terminally unemployed.
I suppose self-confidence is the key, and for people in my situation, when you are constantly being rejected by employers, must all start to lose themselves after a while. A good example this was the other night. I went to see a mate's gig, a real studenty affair, and it was pretty sparse in there. When we got there we waited around for my friend to play, I noticed a particularly attractive girl on the other side of the bar. At some points in my recent history, and given the right mixture of booze and confidence, I probably would have gone over to her and tried to chat her up in an instant, but this time I could think of nothing to say. Zero self-confidence. Realising I had nothing, I just left it all night until I was quite drunk. I kept staring over at her, trying to gain a little eye contact, and kept thinking to myself, 'just keep it cool'. What a prat!
I was leaning against the bar at the time, when I was nudged on the shoulder by the bloke behind the bar. I was leaning on the flap on the bar, and he needed to get through, which put me in mind of the 'Only Fools And Horses' sketch where Del Boy falls through the bar. He was saying something like 'keep it cool' at the time as well. I thought, "well, I'm not falling through the bloody bar too!, It wasn't even that funny when Del Boy did it!", so I decided to grow a pair and go talk to the girl when she stood up. Managed something really crap about music or something which she half-smiled about, but in more of a 'fuck off' kind of way than a 'please, tell me more' kind of way, and that was that. I almost wish I had fallen through the bar, at least I would've had a talking point if I did.
Like chatting up women, or standing on stage like my friend, I think getting a job after 3 months on the dole will probably be as much about my self-confidence as it will be luck or talent. Just got to keep plugging away I guess.
I have really been lapse in the last few weeks because I've been waiting for this one to come along, and this really shouldn't have stopped me doing something as simple as sending off applications. Almost even applied for a job as a Santa Claus for the shopping centre in Brighton, but spending a month humouring naive children pissing on my knee seemed beyond the call of duty. There were also roles going for elves, but I think I may be too tall. Or is is dwarves that are small?
Either way, I'm glad I was positive today. I was very down last night, and a year ago - when I was struggling pretty badly from depression - I would have reacted quite differently today than I have done. I hope my outlook continues this way, even if work isn't immediately forthcoming. Although I have been actively looking for a job for nearly three months, and somehow still haven't found anything, and we are approaching a difficult time of year for the terminally unemployed.
I suppose self-confidence is the key, and for people in my situation, when you are constantly being rejected by employers, must all start to lose themselves after a while. A good example this was the other night. I went to see a mate's gig, a real studenty affair, and it was pretty sparse in there. When we got there we waited around for my friend to play, I noticed a particularly attractive girl on the other side of the bar. At some points in my recent history, and given the right mixture of booze and confidence, I probably would have gone over to her and tried to chat her up in an instant, but this time I could think of nothing to say. Zero self-confidence. Realising I had nothing, I just left it all night until I was quite drunk. I kept staring over at her, trying to gain a little eye contact, and kept thinking to myself, 'just keep it cool'. What a prat!
I was leaning against the bar at the time, when I was nudged on the shoulder by the bloke behind the bar. I was leaning on the flap on the bar, and he needed to get through, which put me in mind of the 'Only Fools And Horses' sketch where Del Boy falls through the bar. He was saying something like 'keep it cool' at the time as well. I thought, "well, I'm not falling through the bloody bar too!, It wasn't even that funny when Del Boy did it!", so I decided to grow a pair and go talk to the girl when she stood up. Managed something really crap about music or something which she half-smiled about, but in more of a 'fuck off' kind of way than a 'please, tell me more' kind of way, and that was that. I almost wish I had fallen through the bar, at least I would've had a talking point if I did.
Like chatting up women, or standing on stage like my friend, I think getting a job after 3 months on the dole will probably be as much about my self-confidence as it will be luck or talent. Just got to keep plugging away I guess.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Bad News, Loser (Wednesday)
On my last day of freedom I went for a walk, had a large breakfast, met a friend at the pub and bought a round for some of the locals I occasionally drink with, and got some shopping in too. Thought it would be nice to celebrate the fact that I start a new job tomorrow and that this was my last free day before it, as it has been a rather long desolate slog in recent weeks to survive on my dole money and own company. Got home and phoned the girl at Reed, who had sorted out my placement, to gain a few details. She told me that I now wasn't starting a job tomorrow. Nice.
Apparently they were still waiting to get my 'datapack', whatever that is, audited, and couldn't do anything about it. 'Hopefully', she said, I'll hear from them next week, but it was, she said, out of their hands. Just like it was seemingly 'out of their hands' to bother to pick the phone up at some point since last Friday to tell me of this difficulty. It certainly also seems a little unfair that I was one of the first to apply for this job and, if they eventually get around to processing my information, I will likely be the last to start. I have phoned and emailed them constantly to remind them of my application and asking for a start date, which they eventually gave me as this Thursday. I seriously got the impression they weren't actually going to phone me today to inform me otherwise either. So it was lucky I phoned them up before cancelling my jobseeker's allowance, which would have left me doubly fucked.
I literally cannot put to words, and even for a mundane temporary job, just how dejected and pissed-off I am feeling this evening. Have been looking so forward these last few days to starting work again, perhaps providing a ladder to climb out of this barren and worthless existence I am dwelling in at the moment, and suddenly something else has got in the way.
'Hopefully' I will start work next week, but that is hardly a guarantee. No 'Reasons To Be Cheerful' tonight I'm afraid readers.
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Tuesday
Spent an evening in Brighton watching a friend play a set in a pub and had a few drinks. Was nice to get out and about somewhere different and mix with a different crowd. Have found that I have tended to do the same sort of stuff in recent weeks due to my lack of dosh. Have my last dole payment through tomorrow - I will phone up and cancel my dole tomorrow ahead of Thursday's start - and am looking forward to it being the last for a while. Will be great to get my last payment through though, and hopefully it'll mean I'll be able to get out and about over the next few days.
It is once again late, and I am tired.
It is once again late, and I am tired.
Monday, 21 November 2011
Monday
Gained a lot of respect for Hugh Grant today when I saw him making his statement for the Leveson Inquiry into the News International phone hacking scandal. He made his points well and I certainly warmed to him as a result. I hope this inquiry comes down hard on News International and the other tabloid newspapers involved in the ever-expanding case. Rupert Murdock and his News International corporation stand for all that is wrong in our western capitalist society, and for too long they have stood above and beyond the law, monopolising and manipulating for corporate greed.
We are the 99%
We are the 99%
Sunday, 20 November 2011
A Few Notes On Last Night's Show
Last night's gig could have gone better I think. There were very few people in the audience, which left the atmosphere a little thin, and it is sometimes very hard to really get into an original set of music in front of a small crowd. There were a few mistakes also, really nothing too serious, but it seemed to leave the band on a bit of a downer - except for our amazingly enthusiastic keyboard player, who sometimes you get the impression nothing could really get him down. I almost wish sometimes a little more of his indomitable character could rub off on to the rest of us just a little.
To songwriters - and I really think this is a factor towards it - like myself, the singer and bass player, a bad performance or even a poorly received performance can sometimes take a lot out of us. When you are pouring your heart out and it seems like no-one is really hearing you, or you are not expressing yourself in exactly the way that you want to, it can be a real numbing experience.
I think anyone who writes songs, or does anything like that that really comes from the soul, can be very open to the slightest disappointments. I really believe that to be able to write an honest song, a song with feeling and emotion, you have to be able to open yourself up for all to see - and opening yourself up in that way means that, as well as something truly profound and beautiful being able to find its way out of you, you can also be quite susceptible to emotions and feelings finding their way in. And this isn't just for songwriters. I think all musicians, as well as comedians, writers, or anybody who is able to share something very personal with others has this burden.
But it can also be a gift. For every bad emotion that is, I suppose, amplified, there is always a good emotion that is amplified too. For a musician, bad gigs are really bad, but then you will eventually get a good gig that is truly amazing, and it is difficult to express the feeling you get when you come off stage buzzing from a good performance and a similarly acknowledging crowd.
I wouldn't describe the show we played last night as either particularly good or bad in hindsight - even considering a little disagreement a couple of the guys in the band had today as a result, but it put me in mind to consider how affected we can be by things which, essentially, are out of our control, and as to how very small and insignificant things can change our moods for hours on end.
In our case, we were treated very well by the venue, fed and watered royally, all our friends and fans that made it enjoyed our company and performance. And that at this level that is, really, the important thing - no matter how totally great and amazing we really are. And we really are totally great and amazing.
Another important characteristic of musicians and performers is Narcissism.
To songwriters - and I really think this is a factor towards it - like myself, the singer and bass player, a bad performance or even a poorly received performance can sometimes take a lot out of us. When you are pouring your heart out and it seems like no-one is really hearing you, or you are not expressing yourself in exactly the way that you want to, it can be a real numbing experience.
I think anyone who writes songs, or does anything like that that really comes from the soul, can be very open to the slightest disappointments. I really believe that to be able to write an honest song, a song with feeling and emotion, you have to be able to open yourself up for all to see - and opening yourself up in that way means that, as well as something truly profound and beautiful being able to find its way out of you, you can also be quite susceptible to emotions and feelings finding their way in. And this isn't just for songwriters. I think all musicians, as well as comedians, writers, or anybody who is able to share something very personal with others has this burden.
But it can also be a gift. For every bad emotion that is, I suppose, amplified, there is always a good emotion that is amplified too. For a musician, bad gigs are really bad, but then you will eventually get a good gig that is truly amazing, and it is difficult to express the feeling you get when you come off stage buzzing from a good performance and a similarly acknowledging crowd.
I wouldn't describe the show we played last night as either particularly good or bad in hindsight - even considering a little disagreement a couple of the guys in the band had today as a result, but it put me in mind to consider how affected we can be by things which, essentially, are out of our control, and as to how very small and insignificant things can change our moods for hours on end.
In our case, we were treated very well by the venue, fed and watered royally, all our friends and fans that made it enjoyed our company and performance. And that at this level that is, really, the important thing - no matter how totally great and amazing we really are. And we really are totally great and amazing.
Another important characteristic of musicians and performers is Narcissism.
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Gig Prep.
Just finishing my usual pre-gig preparation, kind of a Lancing version of getting mentally prepared for something like this, I like to call it, 'shit, shave and a shower'. Basic preparations for spending any extended amount of time on stage are a little like going on a long car journey - make sure you go to the toilet before you go. Should be good, despite our recent lack of practice. Details to follow.
Friday, 18 November 2011
Last Dole Meeting?
Today marked what I hope was my last ever dole meeting. I signed on for the last time before my new job starts next week and hope I never have to go back to that depressing place ever again. Although, somewhere deep down inside of me I almost know that at some point I will. It was actually quite quick and pleasant today, and since I was telling them I had a job starting next week I was treated almost like royalty. Probably not like our royalty, maybe more like the royalty from one of those small islands in the pacific, but it still counts. They were pleased with me.
In fairness, I didn't really do much to get this job, I just signed onto a temp agency at the same time I signed onto the dole. They promised me they'd have a job within a few weeks and have only just come up with something. So all I effectively did was wait, forget I applied, and then out of the blue, get something. With any luck I can find something more permanent to move to during this temporary spell.
This early evening, I dipped into my local for a bit and chatted to the regulars in there that I often spend a few pints with maybe once or twice a week. They are generally all a lot older than me and all from various different walks of life, but I quite like that. A group of very different people who would never socialise outside of the local pub, or rarely even bump into one another, but somehow manage to share an age old British male tradition - the after work pint. We talk art, music, politics, sport, history, and I very much enjoy having this different form of company, despite being much younger than them. Gerry fits kitchens, James is a retired carpenter, Phil used to be a well-regarded jazz musician, and Bill used to make formula one cars.
Gerry was kind enough to buy me a pint, as he did the last time I popped in for one, and I was eternally grateful, if not, as I protested to him feeling slightly guilty that I hadn't enough to pay him back. "We look after each other", he said, and I liked that. Like the bond we share as purely after-work drinkers really means something. I hope I can buy him one back really soon though.
And hopefully it won't be too long either, I start this temp job next Thursday, so with any luck I should start getting paid for it a week or so after, and for a while my monetary problems shall be over. For a while I won't have to come home early on a Friday evening and be forced to watch Children In Need on telly, which is how it's gone so far tonight. I don't want this, no matter how provocatively the BBC News presenters are dancing.
Although I do like Susanna Reid.
In fairness, I didn't really do much to get this job, I just signed onto a temp agency at the same time I signed onto the dole. They promised me they'd have a job within a few weeks and have only just come up with something. So all I effectively did was wait, forget I applied, and then out of the blue, get something. With any luck I can find something more permanent to move to during this temporary spell.
This early evening, I dipped into my local for a bit and chatted to the regulars in there that I often spend a few pints with maybe once or twice a week. They are generally all a lot older than me and all from various different walks of life, but I quite like that. A group of very different people who would never socialise outside of the local pub, or rarely even bump into one another, but somehow manage to share an age old British male tradition - the after work pint. We talk art, music, politics, sport, history, and I very much enjoy having this different form of company, despite being much younger than them. Gerry fits kitchens, James is a retired carpenter, Phil used to be a well-regarded jazz musician, and Bill used to make formula one cars.
Gerry was kind enough to buy me a pint, as he did the last time I popped in for one, and I was eternally grateful, if not, as I protested to him feeling slightly guilty that I hadn't enough to pay him back. "We look after each other", he said, and I liked that. Like the bond we share as purely after-work drinkers really means something. I hope I can buy him one back really soon though.
And hopefully it won't be too long either, I start this temp job next Thursday, so with any luck I should start getting paid for it a week or so after, and for a while my monetary problems shall be over. For a while I won't have to come home early on a Friday evening and be forced to watch Children In Need on telly, which is how it's gone so far tonight. I don't want this, no matter how provocatively the BBC News presenters are dancing.
Although I do like Susanna Reid.
Thursday, 17 November 2011
The Postman/Memory Lane
The bloody postman still hasn't delivered my harmonica mic. I ordered it weeks ago and it still hasn't arrived. I suppose it isn't really his fault..........unless he's stolen it! Yes, that could be it! Still shy of his Christmas bonanza, when he nicks tenner's out of festive cards sent from aunties and uncles to their poor impoverished nieces and nephews, he has decided to steal my harmonica microphone to somehow supplement his less than perfect wage, the fat bastard!
I concede that it probably isn't his fault my package hasn't arrived yet, but its weird how you can sometimes focus blame onto other people who aren't really responsible for a grievance, but it helps you to use them for it anyway. But if I see him walking down the road jamming along to Howling Wolf records with an amplified blues harp I will not be pleased. Even if it does make him a bit cooler.
Have spent the evening listening to records and going though loads of my old notebooks from a few years ago, like my journal of my backpacking trip around Europe I did when I was 18 I think. I kept muttering to myself 'What a dickhead!', and shaking my head at the sanctimonious bollocks I wrote on that trip. To read it you would think I was a pioneering explorer in the South Pole or one of the first westerners to reach the source of the Congo or something, and not just a pretentious teenager inter-railing around Europe.
It's an odd sensation whenever you revisit something personal or opinionated you wrote when you were younger, and even six or seven years is enough. It's like it's someone else who's written it but you almost still recognise a hidden part of your current self within it - and above all it's weirdly embarrassing to read, when you realise what a twat you used to be and unfortunately, probably still are!
And if I thought my diary's and journals were pretentious, I haven't even started on my poetry yet.
I concede that it probably isn't his fault my package hasn't arrived yet, but its weird how you can sometimes focus blame onto other people who aren't really responsible for a grievance, but it helps you to use them for it anyway. But if I see him walking down the road jamming along to Howling Wolf records with an amplified blues harp I will not be pleased. Even if it does make him a bit cooler.
Have spent the evening listening to records and going though loads of my old notebooks from a few years ago, like my journal of my backpacking trip around Europe I did when I was 18 I think. I kept muttering to myself 'What a dickhead!', and shaking my head at the sanctimonious bollocks I wrote on that trip. To read it you would think I was a pioneering explorer in the South Pole or one of the first westerners to reach the source of the Congo or something, and not just a pretentious teenager inter-railing around Europe.
It's an odd sensation whenever you revisit something personal or opinionated you wrote when you were younger, and even six or seven years is enough. It's like it's someone else who's written it but you almost still recognise a hidden part of your current self within it - and above all it's weirdly embarrassing to read, when you realise what a twat you used to be and unfortunately, probably still are!
And if I thought my diary's and journals were pretentious, I haven't even started on my poetry yet.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Real Ale Geek!
Yesterday evening was spent completing another pub crawl with my friend Steve. This is something we do from time to time throughout the year; pick a random place to do a pub crawl - encompassing at least 6 pubs - and then do it. This time we did a route from Southwick to Portslade, which was actually much better than we thought it would be. Being real ale enthusiasts we did much better than we expected and managed to drink some decent beer, as well as ticking off the route. The highlight of the evening was The Stanley Arms in Portslade, which is a regular winner locally of awards for its beer and comes very well recommended. A little chat with the landlord left us with a free pint and, almost selfishly, I started enquiring as to whether they have bands play there very often, and furthermore, if they'd be interested in my band playing there. I'd hatched a plan in my head that I'd start getting us shows at all of the best real ale pubs in the area, and negotiate getting free beer all night as part of the fee. Not sure the others would be that up for that idea.
Actually felt pretty hammered last night after the onslaught, which rather explains the crap I ended up writing about shoes or something for yesterday's 'Reasons To Be Cheerful', and I've had a hangover most of the day as punishment.
I kind of feel like I have a massive geeky side to my personality, doing things like these pub crawls - I mean being into real ale is kind of geeky. Or other stuff I do, like doing the south downs way thing, or even writing a blog for that matter. I wonder what other people think of it? I like to think I balance out my geeky side by doing things like music, watching football, playing sport and drinking a lot - but that probably just adds to it in a way. Some of my friends, the ones I don't partake these kinds of hobbies and activities with, give me funny looks when I tell them about this kind of thing. But I do wonder why. I don't really think it matters what you are into, as long as you enjoy doing it. I don't know. Maybe this is just some kind of latent reminder of insecurity from my school days.
Today I have almost entirely wasted, given the hangover. Just one week until I start working now.........
Actually felt pretty hammered last night after the onslaught, which rather explains the crap I ended up writing about shoes or something for yesterday's 'Reasons To Be Cheerful', and I've had a hangover most of the day as punishment.
I kind of feel like I have a massive geeky side to my personality, doing things like these pub crawls - I mean being into real ale is kind of geeky. Or other stuff I do, like doing the south downs way thing, or even writing a blog for that matter. I wonder what other people think of it? I like to think I balance out my geeky side by doing things like music, watching football, playing sport and drinking a lot - but that probably just adds to it in a way. Some of my friends, the ones I don't partake these kinds of hobbies and activities with, give me funny looks when I tell them about this kind of thing. But I do wonder why. I don't really think it matters what you are into, as long as you enjoy doing it. I don't know. Maybe this is just some kind of latent reminder of insecurity from my school days.
Today I have almost entirely wasted, given the hangover. Just one week until I start working now.........
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Shoes
Shoes. I seem to get through shoes tremendously quickly. But more than that, I seem to get through left shoes tremendously quicker. Why is this? Do I have a weird walk? Or maybe doI have a slightly longer left leg? Probably both.
Monday, 14 November 2011
A Job??
Received news today about a forthcoming job. I start next week and it's a full time temporary role for 2 or 3 months. Think its just general admin type stuff, but at least its something, and for 3 months I will definitely be able to sign off the dole and live a little more like a human being - earning money, socialising, buying loads of records etc. May have to train myself to get out of bed and try to look presentable this week. Today has been largely spent doing a mixture of housework, phoning job agencies, and strumming my guitar - sometimes all at the same time. I went and got the shopping for me and my brother and came back with mainly cheese. We seem to eat a vast amount of cheese - possibly overly so because we are vegetarian, and therefore it seems to go with everything we eat.
Perhaps cheese, and a monumental lack of exercise, is why I put a stone on last year and am struggling to lose it this year, despite my best efforts to do so. Looking forward to losing a bit of weight with the new-found activity this job will bring. Mainly so some of my shirts from last year will fit better, seeing as I have little money to buy new ones. I'm not too fat to fit in these garments by any means, they just don't fit as comfortably as they once did. Just enough so I find myself sometimes breathing-in all night when I go out, trying to make my stomach look slimmer, which can be quite difficult to maintain over an entire evening. If perchance, I end up trying to chat-up someone at some point I can't imagine the probably slightly starched look on my face as I enter my fourth solid hour of holding my stomach in does me any favours.
Roll on next week!
Perhaps cheese, and a monumental lack of exercise, is why I put a stone on last year and am struggling to lose it this year, despite my best efforts to do so. Looking forward to losing a bit of weight with the new-found activity this job will bring. Mainly so some of my shirts from last year will fit better, seeing as I have little money to buy new ones. I'm not too fat to fit in these garments by any means, they just don't fit as comfortably as they once did. Just enough so I find myself sometimes breathing-in all night when I go out, trying to make my stomach look slimmer, which can be quite difficult to maintain over an entire evening. If perchance, I end up trying to chat-up someone at some point I can't imagine the probably slightly starched look on my face as I enter my fourth solid hour of holding my stomach in does me any favours.
Roll on next week!
Sunday, 13 November 2011
Walking Reflection
South Downs Way: Leg 2;
Today our merry group of not-quite ramblers completed a second leg of the South Downs Way - this time walking from Exton to another quaint Hampshire village, Buriton. It was a great day to go for a walk, and this time we set out early, making the most of the crisp Autumn sunshine. It made me think today, as we weaved our way through the countryside, awash with gentle rolling hills and the red brown leaves cascaded over the ground like an autumnal snow (that's for you B!), how many days I can sometimes waste when I end up sat in front of the telly. We have some wonderful countryside alarmingly close to us and some of us spend so much time locked away in our houses and not enjoying it. Surely it is beautiful, enlightening and good for our health to exercise and experience the outdoors. And just as surely, to have a rare sunny and warm day in November is a gift not to be wasted.
Having said that, I'm bloody knackered from the only 14 or so miles we walked today, and was entirely glad in the end when we staggered into our destination in Buriton and went to the pub.
Hope to knock off another leg in a few weeks' time.
Today our merry group of not-quite ramblers completed a second leg of the South Downs Way - this time walking from Exton to another quaint Hampshire village, Buriton. It was a great day to go for a walk, and this time we set out early, making the most of the crisp Autumn sunshine. It made me think today, as we weaved our way through the countryside, awash with gentle rolling hills and the red brown leaves cascaded over the ground like an autumnal snow (that's for you B!), how many days I can sometimes waste when I end up sat in front of the telly. We have some wonderful countryside alarmingly close to us and some of us spend so much time locked away in our houses and not enjoying it. Surely it is beautiful, enlightening and good for our health to exercise and experience the outdoors. And just as surely, to have a rare sunny and warm day in November is a gift not to be wasted.
Having said that, I'm bloody knackered from the only 14 or so miles we walked today, and was entirely glad in the end when we staggered into our destination in Buriton and went to the pub.
Hope to knock off another leg in a few weeks' time.
Saturday, 12 November 2011
Just In Time!
.................And in the nick of time! Just got in there before the deadline! This is the closet yet that I have been before the deadline of writing an entry to this everday. Spent the day watching films, eating and just went out to see a few friends, and then fell asleep for a while. I have literally no time left to type anything else, see you tomorrow reader....
Friday, 11 November 2011
Waiting For A Parcel
Spent the morning waiting for a parcel to be delivered. And it didn't arrive. It is one of the most annoying things when this happens. You set aside and then mostly waste an entire morning, not being quite able to really get into anything properly, and you can't go out anywhere. I also needed a dump all morning, but didn't feel that I could risk the amount of time it might take in case they called while I was mid-operation. Having to shout down the stairs "Hold on, I'm just wiping!!", or just missing my parcel altogether after waiting so long just wasn't an option.
Anyway, turns out it didn't arrive after all, and so I may have to spend tomorrow in the house doing the same thing - or not doing the same thing, however you look at it.
Anyway, turns out it didn't arrive after all, and so I may have to spend tomorrow in the house doing the same thing - or not doing the same thing, however you look at it.
Thursday, 10 November 2011
Thursday # 3
A day of playing old video games and drinking cheap lager with some friends demonstrated the good side of being unemployed, not the regular money-watching, job-hunting, lonely ezistance that seems to usually be the case. With any luck the temp job I have in the pipeline will come good in a week or so and I may start feeling like a human being again. Maybe.
Banana for breakfast, sandwich for lunch, pizza for dinner. Drank lots of tea.
Banana for breakfast, sandwich for lunch, pizza for dinner. Drank lots of tea.
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
No Offence: Dangerous Words
Ricky Gervais, and to possibly a lesser extent Tim Minchin, are both high-profile comedians who have been subject to controversy in recent weeks over the use of apparently offensive language. Gervais was slated for using the word 'mong' in his blogs and tweets a couple of weeks ago, and Minchin was forced to apologise for using the word 'tranny' on a panel-based comedy show.
But are these words really that offensive? And whether they are or not, is it really that funny or necessary to use them anyway?
Comedians seem to be highlighted for using certain words more than most, and perhaps this is the nature of their profession. Anything a comedian does or says surely mirrors the society they draw their material from. Gervais defended his use of the word 'mong' by suggesting that modern/popular culture now understands the word as meaning 'idiot', rather than a supposedly archaic word used to describe people with cerebral-palsy (in honesty, I actually always thought it was a derogatory word for disabled people and don't think I have ever used it). Likewise, Minchin was unaware that the word 'tranny' was considered offensive by those it described.
I wonder if the use of some of these words can be excused as a generational confusion. Sixty or seventy years ago the word 'nigger' was a frequently used and an old word used as a name for black people. It is by and large now no longer in use. And very rightly so. Never has a word in history ever represented such a travesty in social justice. Millions of human beings throughout several centuries were enslaved and considered lesser human beings under that word.
Weeks ago my father told me how he had recently had to have words with his own father about him using the word 'nigger' and how it is considered terribly offensive and that he shouldn't be using it. But if it is was a common word when he was young, and I don't actually know if it was that common - although we are led to believe that it was used more back then, then maybe he can be excused for not realising its significance. My dad couldn't understand why he found it so difficult to understand how offensive the word was when he explained it to him.
Likewise, a few weeks ago, while out for a few drinks with my dad, I had to reprimand him for using the word 'faggot', which these days is considered to be an aggressive and offensive word to describe gay men. He couldn't really see that this was more offensive than any other words people use to describe gays. Having been a firefighter all his life, and working in a male-dominated working-class environment, I gather words and language such as this becomes widely spread, and so that is why he probably saw it as a word such as any other. I told him that I knew for a fact that people my age, and I was certainly thinking of some gay friends of mine, would find the word offensive, but somehow he still didn't see it.
It seemed to me that the offensiveness of these words could have changed generationally - or even as a result of circumstances - presumably, just as all language goes in and out of fashion, the words that cause offence also fade in and out. What wasn't considered overly offensive then is considered drastically offensive now. Of course, and I dearly hope it isn't the case, my father may just be a homophobe, and my grandfather a racist.
Of course, words like this are always going to be subjective. Words that to some people are outrageously offensive said to others may mean very little. Just like the way people rate swear words as to their relative rudeness. Some may see words like 'twat' or 'crap' to be very rude, whereas others will see them as tame, but words like 'fuck' or 'cunt' as being very offensive. Others, and most of the people that drink down my local, think nothing of saying 'fuck' and 'cunt' every other word, and would probably struggle talk without using them.
One man's 'crap' is another man's 'fuck' is another man's 'cunt'.
So people perceive offensive words to different degrees. Everyone is different, and so will always think differently. And possibly some words go in and out of fashion and history and generations pass. Words are just words aren't they? Sticks and stones etc..... Some people think the almost 'banning' of offensive words or phrases like 'nigger' or 'faggot' or 'mong' is an attack on their freedom of speech. That they shouldn't be told what to do, and that they themselves are being victimised by not being allowed to use these words. They cite 'political correctness gone mad' and 'thought police'........
......and they are of course wrong, and very ignorant. When Ricky Gervais and Tim Minchin were forced to apologise for their individual faux-pas's, they were entirely right to do so, even if Gervais was predictably childish about it. Anything that causes offence to others, and especially minorities, is well worth an apology. It is not for the individual speaking these words to decide what is offensive and what is not. They obviously won't find what they are saying offensive or they wouldn't even think it in the first place. Of course people can't help it if they didn't know a word of phrase was offensive, and they can instantly remedy that by trying to understand the opposite point of view and apologising.
I think that is my point overall in a way, as disjointed and unfocused as I have been here. Offensive words are not really acceptable, and if you didn't understand their meaning or relevance when you used them, then you should apologise to those concerned and try not to use them again. Conscientiousness and consideration is the key.
For a certainly better constructed, and considerably funnier, argument about the use of offensive language amongst other things, follow the link below to hear the first episode of 'The Richard Herring Objective' on Radio 4, which considers the history of 'The Gollywog', and highlights a similar subject. I highly recommend it.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b016wzrz/Richard_Herrings_Objective_Series_2_The_Golliwog/
But are these words really that offensive? And whether they are or not, is it really that funny or necessary to use them anyway?
Comedians seem to be highlighted for using certain words more than most, and perhaps this is the nature of their profession. Anything a comedian does or says surely mirrors the society they draw their material from. Gervais defended his use of the word 'mong' by suggesting that modern/popular culture now understands the word as meaning 'idiot', rather than a supposedly archaic word used to describe people with cerebral-palsy (in honesty, I actually always thought it was a derogatory word for disabled people and don't think I have ever used it). Likewise, Minchin was unaware that the word 'tranny' was considered offensive by those it described.
I wonder if the use of some of these words can be excused as a generational confusion. Sixty or seventy years ago the word 'nigger' was a frequently used and an old word used as a name for black people. It is by and large now no longer in use. And very rightly so. Never has a word in history ever represented such a travesty in social justice. Millions of human beings throughout several centuries were enslaved and considered lesser human beings under that word.
Weeks ago my father told me how he had recently had to have words with his own father about him using the word 'nigger' and how it is considered terribly offensive and that he shouldn't be using it. But if it is was a common word when he was young, and I don't actually know if it was that common - although we are led to believe that it was used more back then, then maybe he can be excused for not realising its significance. My dad couldn't understand why he found it so difficult to understand how offensive the word was when he explained it to him.
Likewise, a few weeks ago, while out for a few drinks with my dad, I had to reprimand him for using the word 'faggot', which these days is considered to be an aggressive and offensive word to describe gay men. He couldn't really see that this was more offensive than any other words people use to describe gays. Having been a firefighter all his life, and working in a male-dominated working-class environment, I gather words and language such as this becomes widely spread, and so that is why he probably saw it as a word such as any other. I told him that I knew for a fact that people my age, and I was certainly thinking of some gay friends of mine, would find the word offensive, but somehow he still didn't see it.
It seemed to me that the offensiveness of these words could have changed generationally - or even as a result of circumstances - presumably, just as all language goes in and out of fashion, the words that cause offence also fade in and out. What wasn't considered overly offensive then is considered drastically offensive now. Of course, and I dearly hope it isn't the case, my father may just be a homophobe, and my grandfather a racist.
Of course, words like this are always going to be subjective. Words that to some people are outrageously offensive said to others may mean very little. Just like the way people rate swear words as to their relative rudeness. Some may see words like 'twat' or 'crap' to be very rude, whereas others will see them as tame, but words like 'fuck' or 'cunt' as being very offensive. Others, and most of the people that drink down my local, think nothing of saying 'fuck' and 'cunt' every other word, and would probably struggle talk without using them.
One man's 'crap' is another man's 'fuck' is another man's 'cunt'.
So people perceive offensive words to different degrees. Everyone is different, and so will always think differently. And possibly some words go in and out of fashion and history and generations pass. Words are just words aren't they? Sticks and stones etc..... Some people think the almost 'banning' of offensive words or phrases like 'nigger' or 'faggot' or 'mong' is an attack on their freedom of speech. That they shouldn't be told what to do, and that they themselves are being victimised by not being allowed to use these words. They cite 'political correctness gone mad' and 'thought police'........
......and they are of course wrong, and very ignorant. When Ricky Gervais and Tim Minchin were forced to apologise for their individual faux-pas's, they were entirely right to do so, even if Gervais was predictably childish about it. Anything that causes offence to others, and especially minorities, is well worth an apology. It is not for the individual speaking these words to decide what is offensive and what is not. They obviously won't find what they are saying offensive or they wouldn't even think it in the first place. Of course people can't help it if they didn't know a word of phrase was offensive, and they can instantly remedy that by trying to understand the opposite point of view and apologising.
I think that is my point overall in a way, as disjointed and unfocused as I have been here. Offensive words are not really acceptable, and if you didn't understand their meaning or relevance when you used them, then you should apologise to those concerned and try not to use them again. Conscientiousness and consideration is the key.
For a certainly better constructed, and considerably funnier, argument about the use of offensive language amongst other things, follow the link below to hear the first episode of 'The Richard Herring Objective' on Radio 4, which considers the history of 'The Gollywog', and highlights a similar subject. I highly recommend it.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b016wzrz/Richard_Herrings_Objective_Series_2_The_Golliwog/
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
an attempted blog from an old mobile
STRUGGLING TO WRITE THIS ON A QUITE OLD MOBILE PHONE. THE BUTTONS HAVE BROKEN AND I CAN BARELY READ THE SCREEN. DON'T KNOW HOW TO TURN CAPS OFF EITHER. I AM NOT SHOUTING. ↲TODAY I HAVE BEEN HELPING MY COUSIN TO MOVE HOUSE. HE'S JUST POPPED OUT, AND IT TURNS OUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WORK HIS COMPUTER (POPPED OUT AS IN GONE OUT, NOT AS IN UNSATISFACTORY TROUSER ELASTICATION), SO DECIDED TO ATTEMPT THE MOBILE BLOG.↲QUITE SHATTERED TO BE HONEST. PEOPLE ALWAYS SEEM TO BE MOVING INTO UPSTAIRS FLATS WHEN I HELP THEM MOVE! STILL, I DARE SAY IT WAS GOOD EXERCISE FOR ME. TIME FOR A QUICK SNOOZE BEFORE A PUB QUIZ LATER I THINK. MORE WORDS AND WRITTEN ON A COMPUTER TOMORROW I HOPE.
Monday, 7 November 2011
Routinelessness
Woke up late today, didn't sleep until 3 due to a heavy caffeine intake the night before. Not that I needed to get up. It did worry me however, that if I do manage to get a job any time soon - and there is a possible temporary job coming up in a couple of weeks - I would be so out of the routine of actually getting up in the morning and going to bed at a reasonable time, that I would struggle with it really badly. Adjusting to it I mean. At the moment nothing is stopping me doing anything at any time. Perhaps this is what retirement is like, only without a stair-lift and less of a tendency to video games.
Spent another morning making demos for the band. Seems to make me go a little peculiar when I do this. I spent hours on my own printing off sleeves and cutting them out, and sticking labels to cds. I generally end up talking to myself during the process. This was followed by a rehearsal in the evening where most of the band seemed to have colds. Considered replacing my harmonica solo with a sneezing fit. It probably wouldn't sound much worse.
Today I have mainly eaten toast.
Spent another morning making demos for the band. Seems to make me go a little peculiar when I do this. I spent hours on my own printing off sleeves and cutting them out, and sticking labels to cds. I generally end up talking to myself during the process. This was followed by a rehearsal in the evening where most of the band seemed to have colds. Considered replacing my harmonica solo with a sneezing fit. It probably wouldn't sound much worse.
Today I have mainly eaten toast.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Just Woke Up In Front Of The Telly And Remembered I've Not Written A Blog Yet Today, Perhaps A Long Title Will Make Up For Lack Of Content On This Occasion
Blimey, drinking during the day really wipes you out. Nipped out for a couple of pints this Sunday lunchtime, managed to get a little tipsy but was still home by early evening. After hastily cooking something and eating it hungrily, I fell asleep in front of the television and have only just woken up at twenty past eleven - probably ensuring that I won't get to sleep tonight until around three.
A real chill in the air today highlighted the fact to me that winter is now upon us, and at some point I will definitely have to buy a winter coat - something I really can't afford at the moment, given how much I paid for two pairs of trainers the other day (as suspected, they turned out to be shit). Dropped some gig posters down at the local today, and managed to avoid a conversation with the landlord, which was a result. Spent the entire morning making free demos to give out at gigs, it took several hours to make not many and I just hope people listen to them.
A real chill in the air today highlighted the fact to me that winter is now upon us, and at some point I will definitely have to buy a winter coat - something I really can't afford at the moment, given how much I paid for two pairs of trainers the other day (as suspected, they turned out to be shit). Dropped some gig posters down at the local today, and managed to avoid a conversation with the landlord, which was a result. Spent the entire morning making free demos to give out at gigs, it took several hours to make not many and I just hope people listen to them.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
The 5th Of November
Another of those late entries I'm afraid folks, and I don't think there'll any jokes about wanking either.
Went over to Lewes for the fireworks/bonfire thing tonight with some friends and didn't have the best time of it. It probably can be a good evening if you have a good way of getting there and away, and know a good place to go, but I seemed to spend almost my entire evening queuing. When we got to Brighton station we had to queue for an hour to get on a train to Lewes - at this point I kind of thought about jumping ship and spending the night drinking in Brighton - then when we got to Lewes we were herded towards a certain part of the High Street, and got to see some of the precession, but not with a great view. It was so crammed full that it got uncomfortable and, after attempting to get a pint in a pub - queuing again for over 20 minutes before giving up - I decided to cut my losses and head back to Brighton for a couple of pints before the pubs shut. Then had to queue again to get back to Brighton - although had a better view of the precession this time, as had to dodge through it and around it to get back to the station, dodging flaming torches and the deafening explosions of bangers along the way.
So much queuing this evening. And I am not a patient queuer.
Perhaps on another night I would have enjoyed the festivities in Lewes. It is a place I have visited fairly often and I like it, but it was really just too crowded for me to enjoy tonight. Essentially this evening I stood in queues for over 4 hours and saw a few blokes walk past with fiery sticks. And I'm not even mad-keen on fireworks. And I didn't manage to get a pint in all the time I was there. Enjoyed watching some of the precession though, and it would have been nice to have seen them burn the guy, but for the fact that I would never have gotten home. The guy in this case being a giant effigy of Mr Cameron!
Luckily I managed to get back to Brighton before the pubs shut, and bumped into a group of friends, who I stayed with for a while. Drinking made me happy, and they gave me a lift home.
Went over to Lewes for the fireworks/bonfire thing tonight with some friends and didn't have the best time of it. It probably can be a good evening if you have a good way of getting there and away, and know a good place to go, but I seemed to spend almost my entire evening queuing. When we got to Brighton station we had to queue for an hour to get on a train to Lewes - at this point I kind of thought about jumping ship and spending the night drinking in Brighton - then when we got to Lewes we were herded towards a certain part of the High Street, and got to see some of the precession, but not with a great view. It was so crammed full that it got uncomfortable and, after attempting to get a pint in a pub - queuing again for over 20 minutes before giving up - I decided to cut my losses and head back to Brighton for a couple of pints before the pubs shut. Then had to queue again to get back to Brighton - although had a better view of the precession this time, as had to dodge through it and around it to get back to the station, dodging flaming torches and the deafening explosions of bangers along the way.
So much queuing this evening. And I am not a patient queuer.
Perhaps on another night I would have enjoyed the festivities in Lewes. It is a place I have visited fairly often and I like it, but it was really just too crowded for me to enjoy tonight. Essentially this evening I stood in queues for over 4 hours and saw a few blokes walk past with fiery sticks. And I'm not even mad-keen on fireworks. And I didn't manage to get a pint in all the time I was there. Enjoyed watching some of the precession though, and it would have been nice to have seen them burn the guy, but for the fact that I would never have gotten home. The guy in this case being a giant effigy of Mr Cameron!
Luckily I managed to get back to Brighton before the pubs shut, and bumped into a group of friends, who I stayed with for a while. Drinking made me happy, and they gave me a lift home.
Friday, 4 November 2011
Friday the 4th of November
Friday the 4th of November. My mother left for Africa. I left for the job centre. Listened to a europhobe/borderline xenophobe in the pub who described the modern Germany as being like "The Forth Reich". Had pasta for dinner. Tired.
Thursday, 3 November 2011
"I Wasn't Wanking!"
One month of 'Reasons To Be Cheerful'! Oh yes, I have now forced myself to write this self-indulgent shit, rife with irreverent rants and poorly constructed humour, for exactly one month now! I thank you, dear reader, for your unwavering support and wonderful company along this journey. So yeah, er, thanks Nick.
Today I ordered some really cheap shoes online, realising that all of the footwear I own seems to have holes in. I didn't think things had actually gotten this bad to be honest. I have been on the dole for two months and am now it seems, so poor, that I can't go out without getting sore or wet feet. I pondered for a moment as to whether operative footwear was an essential thing to buy, because obviously with my limited funds at the moment I have been careful to restrict my purchases to only the most necessary items - like the beer, cd's, and the harmonica microphone I bought yesterday. So after much deliberation, I decided actually being able to go outside was almost as important as being able to play amplified rhythm and blues, and I ordered two pairs of £7 plimsolls off of Amazon. I can't imagine what they'll be like. They'll probably look really cool and last for ages.
Before heading out this afternoon to drop some posters off in pubs in Brighton for my band, and having a few pints in the process - I am prepared to call this PR, rather than another example of unnecessary spending - I spent some time on my exercise bike at home.
Following my heart doctor's orders to exercise more (from the other day's entry), I was doing pretty well and working up quite a sweat. I'd cycled over 10 miles when the doorbell rang, it was the postman. I've struck up quite a friendly relationship with our postman since I was rendered unemployed. I have time everyday to chat to him a little, and seems always to ring the doorbell rather than to force a big bundle of letters through the letterbox as, sadly, he knows I'm nearly always in in the mornings. I've started to be the regular drop off point for other people's parcels when they're not in.
I ran down the stairs and opened the door to him, realising as I opened it I was only wearing a tight pair of shorts and was sweating profusely. I must have looked flushed and flustered, and it struck me that he might have thought I'd been doing something other than exercising. I mean, he knows I'm unemployed. He knows I am the only person in the house. I was half-naked. And I was really sweaty. The evidence was all there! I felt like protesting to him, "I WASN'T WANKING, YOU KNOW!!" I didn't, sensing it may make things worse. He gave me my post, and gave me a look. Guess he might not be leaving other people post at my house to look after any more. Not at The Wanker's house.
Of course, he might have just have thought I had been exercising, which I was, I wasn't wanking.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Two Films I Watched Today/I Don't Like James Corden Very Much
Found myself watching 'Lesbian Vampire Killers' when I got in this evening. Hadn't seen it before, and it was probably one of the worst films I have ever seen. Even the hordes of attractive women in it didn't seem to outweigh how absolutely shit it was, which says a lot. It is written by and starring James Corden, who is also responsible for one of the worst comedy shows I've ever seen as well, The Horne and Corden Show. And then he also had a show during last year's world cup which was supposed to be funny look at football, and wasn't, and seems to pop up on all these awards shows and chat shows and just comes across as arrogant and self-obsessed (a bit like Ricky Gervais - except he has a bit more to back it up with I suppose). I don't see why people keep commissioning him to make television programmes and films. Don't be fooled by the mostly pretty okay 'Gavin and Stacy', which may have been largely down to his co-writer in hindsight, James Corden is not funny, interesting or talented. He is in fact, a total twat. An unfunny twat. But other people seem to like him.
Rant over!
Today has been an okay day. Went for a long walk along the seafront and then had a meal with my mother before she goes to Africa for a month. Earlier today I watched a fantastic film, The Last King of Scotland. Documenting the semi-factual rise of Idi Amin to power and corruption in Uganda during the 1970s, and told through the eyes of a young doctor, played by James McAvoy. Harrowing and grisly in parts, I found this film thought provoking and emotional in parts, and it was superbly acted and produced. One of the best films I've watched in a while, and it seems a shame I haven't seen it earlier. Perhaps James Corden didn't really have a chance after that anyway.
Rant over!
Today has been an okay day. Went for a long walk along the seafront and then had a meal with my mother before she goes to Africa for a month. Earlier today I watched a fantastic film, The Last King of Scotland. Documenting the semi-factual rise of Idi Amin to power and corruption in Uganda during the 1970s, and told through the eyes of a young doctor, played by James McAvoy. Harrowing and grisly in parts, I found this film thought provoking and emotional in parts, and it was superbly acted and produced. One of the best films I've watched in a while, and it seems a shame I haven't seen it earlier. Perhaps James Corden didn't really have a chance after that anyway.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Heartbeat
Had to go for an exercise test for my heart at the hospital today. This involved parts of my chest being shaved and then wired-up to a computer and then me running in different stages on a treadmill to test the effects of exercise on my blood pressure, something my less than perfect heart struggles to monitor.
Wasn't looking forward to this very much today, not least because I am tremendously unfit at the moment and was a little anxious about my performance, but also because of the kind of crowd I seem to attract at these sorts of things at the hospital. Having a slightly rare heart condition, for my age, always seems to attract a large number of trainee doctors to these things. So today I was prepared for the assistants charged with preparing me and monitoring my test, my consultant, and a couple of junior doctors observing what was, essentially, a slightly fat bloke running on a treadmill for half an hour.
It went okay in the end. I seemed to sweat heavily all over their treadmill though. My consultant, who I have been seeing for many years, was as calm and pleasant as ever told me that I'd performed much better than expected in today's test, which was good. Next appointment six months time.
I sometimes wonder how some people always seem to slag off the NHS and the hospitals. I know situations and experiences are always different for people, and some may have acceptable grievances, but I have been visiting hospitals all of my life for regular heart check-ups and procedures, and I have to say I think the whole institute is totally fantastic. I couldn't have hoped for better treatment, monitoring and care throughout my life, and long may it continue. And I struggle even more when you hear of the struggles to install a national health service in the USA. It seems to be the most obviously needed, and therefore necessary [and humane], public services you can have. I think we are extremely lucky to have such a fantastic service, and any that oppose it in america are simply greedy and selfish.
Just a thought.
Noticing that I'd put on a bit of weight since I'd last seen her, my consultant suggested that perhaps I should start drinking a little less beer and start doing a little more exercise. Naturally, I was straight in the pub for a quick pint before my train home.
Wasn't looking forward to this very much today, not least because I am tremendously unfit at the moment and was a little anxious about my performance, but also because of the kind of crowd I seem to attract at these sorts of things at the hospital. Having a slightly rare heart condition, for my age, always seems to attract a large number of trainee doctors to these things. So today I was prepared for the assistants charged with preparing me and monitoring my test, my consultant, and a couple of junior doctors observing what was, essentially, a slightly fat bloke running on a treadmill for half an hour.
It went okay in the end. I seemed to sweat heavily all over their treadmill though. My consultant, who I have been seeing for many years, was as calm and pleasant as ever told me that I'd performed much better than expected in today's test, which was good. Next appointment six months time.
I sometimes wonder how some people always seem to slag off the NHS and the hospitals. I know situations and experiences are always different for people, and some may have acceptable grievances, but I have been visiting hospitals all of my life for regular heart check-ups and procedures, and I have to say I think the whole institute is totally fantastic. I couldn't have hoped for better treatment, monitoring and care throughout my life, and long may it continue. And I struggle even more when you hear of the struggles to install a national health service in the USA. It seems to be the most obviously needed, and therefore necessary [and humane], public services you can have. I think we are extremely lucky to have such a fantastic service, and any that oppose it in america are simply greedy and selfish.
Just a thought.
Noticing that I'd put on a bit of weight since I'd last seen her, my consultant suggested that perhaps I should start drinking a little less beer and start doing a little more exercise. Naturally, I was straight in the pub for a quick pint before my train home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)