So today I moved into my new house with a friend of mine from back home. I'm still not too convinced about whether living with him is going to work out, but fuckit, I'm stuck with it now. I introduced him to some friends of mine, I'm not too sure how that went either. Fuckit, it's not up to me to get him mates aswell as a job and a fuckin' house.
I'm sure it'll be fine, but we'll need to wait and see.
I've been feeling not too bad the last couple of days, I guess that's why I have a couple of missing days posts, although in my defence I have been busy. Tonight though, first night in my new home. I felt fuckin' terrible. I felt so sad about splitting up with the ex. Missing her, and the boy. Just hoping that they're ok. And while I stopped short of wanting to be back there, wishing that I'd dealt with things a bit better maybe. Or that I could have done something so that she didn't feel shite about what had happened.
I guess it's to do with the whole moving in to a new place really, and that we were supposed to be moving in to somewhere new before I decided enough was enough. Fuckit, I'll just need to ride this out I suppose. And hopefully come the morning I'll be ok.
It's hard moving in to a new place when you've literally got fuck all. Luckily, the guy who was leaving this place decided I could have all his shit for £200. WAshing Machine, Fridge-Freezer, Sofas, beds etc, as I'd left pretty much everything with the ex. At the time I felt fucking shite, real fuckin distress that I had *nothing* except a bag of clothes, my computer and my guitar. Literally everything I owned in the world could be carried on my back.
In time though, the feeling of freedom. That I had no *things* holding me back anywhere became quite liberating. Everything I owned could be carried, so I could literally up and leave whenever I felt like it. That in itself brought it's own headaches, but those are for another day. I guess that feeling is the exact feeling that gypsy's/pikeys/travellers/whatever the fuck you want to call them, have all the time. Things aint right somewhere, fuckit just get on the road and away we go. That's the fuckin' life.
It's the same as this whole "credit crunch" business. Fuckin' hell, everyday we have another muppet on the tele, or radio bumping their gums about this or that and how it's awful and the housing market is going to shit and we're all doomed. Which in turn means you go to work and hear some half regurgitated shite from the muppets that initially thought that "credit crunch" was a new type of breakfast cereal, and are now some sort of officianados on the subject because they heard Nicky Campbell talking about it on the way to work.
This wouldn't be so bad if they actually took the time to read about what's happening, and educate themselves on why it is happening, and then give an opinion on it. Just a fuckin' opinion. If it's shite, or I don't agree with it doesn't matter a fuck, at least you've thought about it. Instead you cunts come in to work and tell me Nicky Fuckin Campbells opinion, a fuckin cunt who used to tell people to spin a fuckin' plastic wheel for a living is now the all knowing oracle for these cunts?!! Gimme a fuckin' break...
But I digress, back to the credit crunch. Once again, the liberating aspect of having fuck all comes in to play. What the fuck can they take from me? I've got fuck all!! Ha! Other people can worry about having their houses reposessed because they took on a mortgage that was far too big for them. While it's not nice at all, how can we be expected to have compassion for the same section of society who have benefitted off of the likes of me for the last 25 years? Of course that is a huge generalisation, but I don't give a fuck. I don't need to explain myself to you, you're just a fuckin' blog after all.
The cuts on my arm are beginning to hurt, and worryingly I'm looking at them and thinking that they are beginning to look cool as fuck. I think I've been quite artistic with them. Not intentionally, just that you see loads of people with just cuts stacked one on top of the other like a big fuckin leaning tower of faux self harm. Usually these are the cunts who then wear sleaveless tops to show off their handywork. And usually they aren't proper "cuts" just scratches really. But mine are cool, I've almost kinda joined them up and look like I caught up with Zorro for a bit who left a Z shape with his sword on my arm.
Anyway, thinking that it looks cool is not cool. I'll need to do something about that.
I'm going to Glasgow on Thursday this week, really looking forward to it. Got lots planned to do, most of it I will be doing my utmost to not booze, but we'll see how that goes.
Anyway... It's late now. I should sleep. Chau.
Currently rated 5.0 by 1 people
- Currently 5/5 Stars.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5