Sunday 20 December 2015

Sequel/Prequel. Prequel/Sequel

Two differences between the prequels and the sequels:

1. You can't imagine anyone in the prequels sat in the break room, watching the telly and saying to the guy next to them, "Whose turn is it to make the teas? Milk, two sugars, geezer..."

2. In the sequels you can imagine everyone drawing in a sharp breath and grimacing if someone knocked their shin on the coffee table. In the prequels they'd just stand there looking stern until the pain abates while the others looked on dispassionately.

I bet Mace Windu never made the teas.

Saturday 19 December 2015

Star Wars

I watched the new Star Wars film a couple of days ago. Before going I put a comment on Facebook about John Boyega - an actor I don't know much about apart from the character he plays in Attack the Block - and how it would be interesting to see if he chavs up his character. 'May the Force be wiv you, innit bruv!' is what I wrote. There were a couple of comments from friends saying I was going to love the film. I then to watch the film.

The prequels were a chance for Star Wars fans to see a film that utilised the new computer graphic technology in a Star Wars universe. We couldn't wait, and when we got into the film, we were blown away by the graphics and the lightsabre battles. It took me about ten years to realise - after so many people had mentioned the bad things about The Phantom Menace - that the first prequel was very badly made. After watching the RedLetterMedia reviews I then understood just how badly made all the films were and just how abysmal were the storylines. I was wary about this new trilogy, and knowing that J.J. Abrams was directing didn't make me feel any more confident. He has the ability to do some strange things in his films; camera flares and not caring about universe lore when it came to Star Trek. But I went in with an open mind...

I returned expecting a couple more comments saying positive things about the film. What I got was a comment from a black friend saying: 'Why, because he's black?'
She is also a feminist and a homosexual. Basically she ticks three of the major boxes you need to get away with saying anything you want to a heterosexual white man.

After everything I'd gone through over the past week I was just exasperated. I didn't even manage to get angry by the accusation of racism. I was so thankful that one of my friends argued against her and said that there was nothing wrong with the status and that she was playing 'that card'. Her replies to him were that ignoring racism or the different colours of skin doesn't help the fight against racism. What she completely ignores is that a stance against racism can come in many forms, and the srive for equality can be done in your own way. My way, and from his words, the way of my friend, is that we take everybody on what they do, not on who they are. I don't give two shits about the colour of someones skin, what they dress in, or what type of genitalia they have.

But I responded telling her that I put it because of the character he'd played in Attack the Block. Her fucked up response was that Boyega is a serious, established actor who is more than a part he has played and why didn't I comment on one of the other - white - actors. (If I'd commented on the female actor would she have had problems with that?) (If i'd commented on an actor who is transgender or gay, would she have found exception there?). What I'm getting from her comment is that a white man can only joke about white actors and the characters they have played.

So, my response was that I was commenting that I had only seen him in Attack the Block. I told her that she was out of order for what she had written. What I wish I had added (just for complete clarity) is that i couldn't comment on the other new cast members because I knew absolutely nothing about them, with the exception of Oscar Isaac who, to this date, has done nothing exceptional or quote-worthy. John Boyega has played a London chav who had a very distinctive way of talking in a film I have seen twice. Where the humour comes in this is that the dialogue in the Star Wars films is almost archaic or from the world of very old cinema. Having chav language integrated or conflated within this could be quite humorous. 'May the Force be wiv you, innit bruv'. Some could argue that this is funny. Some could argue that because I am white and the actor who may say this happens to be black makes me a racist. Some people could be wrong in this accusation.

People really should start to look at themselves when throwing around these accusations.
'Heavy words are so lightly thrown' is what Morrissey sang.
'Those who fight monsters must fight not to become monstrous. When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you' is what Nietzsche wrote.
Just because you are black, female and gay does not make you the standard bearer for morality. Grow up.

As for the film, it felt like a Star Wars film. It was very enjoyable. I'd like to see it again. When the Millenium Falcon appeared, being pursued by the Tie Fighters with the distinctive groan of their engines, I got goosebumps and couldn't get the smile off my face. The new cast were all fantastic. Fantastic! The female actor, Daisy Ridley, was phenomenal. The black actor, John Boyega, was so cute, amiable, heroic and funny. The white actor, Oscar Isaac, was surprisingly likeable and such a great addition. The other white actor, Adam Driver, was such an intimidating yet damaged and incomplete monster. The most white actor, Domhnall Gleeson, played a very effective antagonist. Andy Serkis (who is white but buried under motion-capture) was good. Lupita Nyong'o (who is a black female actor) has a great voice behind her own motion capture character. The original cast is both male and female, but unfortunately they're all heterosexual (I think). Harrison Ford, for the first time in so many years, really brought his character to life. Carrie Fisher wasn't great, but I don't care - oh, she's a woman - I don't care because I love her for who she is. Mark Hamill was only in it for a while but what he did was very effective. He's white, male and heterosexual.

Phew... there you go, that's what I thought of Star Wars: The Force Awakens and also I have addressed all genders, races and sexual persuasions. 7/10.

oh and the other main female character who is played by a white actress, Captain Phasma, was a waste of a villain.

Sunday 13 December 2015

Housematey

In an interesting turn up of events, my housemate has started reading my blog. Thankfully I don't feel quite as bad as the way she must've felt when she added me on Twitter and didn't think to delete all the stuff she'd written about me over the previous two years. There was about half a dozen quite horrible things that she had written about me, but when I asked her about it, she denied writing any of it. Luckily I haven't written anything worse than what she's already read.
Or have I?!
No.
On the plus side I have my first regular reader after five years. Go me!

Flight

Between March 1995 and April 2003 I was subjected to relentless physical, mental and emotional abuse. After 2003, the abuse became more or less solely emotional abuse (due to now being away from my abuser) until April 2006 when the abuse became extreme leaving me with a permanent feeling of grief (which I still have to deal with to this day).
Between 1995 and 2002 my wife tried to kill me twice, on the second attempt I had to catch her arm as she swung a meat cleaver towards the top of my skull. I then had claims of attempted murderer, wife-beater, child abuser, paedophile and negligent father made against me.
By December 2007 I had attempted suicide once. Sometime around 2008 I developed a twitch and during a seven month period that year I had no human contact apart from walking past the odd person in the supermarket at 2am. If I had died in March 2008 my body would only have been discovered in October that year by the housing rental inspector. By February 2009 I had attempted suicide twice. I failed in both my attempts at suicide due to not having the courage to finish the act off. I began crossing the road without looking to see if there was traffic coming in the hopes I could commit suicide without having to do the hard work myself.
In 2011 I sold all my belongings and cycled to the highlands of Scotland in the hope I would be hit by a lorry but at least it would've been in a beautiful place.
In 2014, before I started university I had a total of around five minutes of conversation all year. During our four months off between Year 1 and Year 2 I had no conversations with anyone.
During the twenty years I have briefly gone over I have yelled at (to my memory) 6 people in work and other places and either lost my job or had my credibility seriously dented because of losing my temper. I cannot control this anxiety I feel and neither can the doctors, counsellors, psychologists, psychiatrists or cognitive behavioural therapists. I have never been violent (not even when the violence was aimed against me). It isn't in my nature, especially against women. I don't even get angry when people are being violent or aggressive towards me. I just get angry when people take away my control. I have two choices when it happens: fight or flight. On Friday I chose flight. I think it is the better option for me.

A Want of My Own

Like drowning in a lake of tears that never fall,
I snatch for breaths stolen from me.
I suck fiercely at hard liquid
And pungent air
Heavy in my chest
Air that gags me, a palm on my lips
Strong. As I score their flesh for release
My plea is met with disdain
My face pushed further down

And I panic now as I see the end
Closer, closer as the walls close in
My struggles pulse against my ribs
The drumming in my head
Sliding stars and the colour of blood before my eyes
I need to be free to break free of this force
That is holding me in place
And the gaze pressing on me
Controlling me
Keeping everything from me that I need
That I want
That I yearn
To hold and embrace as my own.
I scream inside and want to draw that life into me.
But it isn’t mine


No more


And I must go.

Saturday 12 December 2015

Lack of Empathy

Long term abuse - severe abuse - causes psychological damage. It's that simple. I had a bad marriage. I was abused very badly and had most of my power stripped from me, and if I stood up to my ex-wife, she would physically attack me. I couldn't hit her back because she was a woman. It left me with an insecurity complex and whenever I am left powerless it affects me emotionally. It still affects me to this day.

I was in university. The module was Page to Stage. Basically, it's drama, and I'm learning how to be a Director. There's a young PhD student (who is a teaching assistant) who has been bothering me for about two months now. What I mean is, for some reason he chooses to ignore me or acts like he needs me to know my place. In a different module - Literature, Adaptation and the Screen - when I answer questions he usually gives me no feedback, doesn't address what I've said or simply asks the same question to someone else and ignores what I've said. Thankfully other people noticed this and so when I brought it up with them they agreed that they had noticed it and that it was weird that he did it. In Page to Stage, although I'd had professional difference of artistic opinion with him, I had had no problems with him.
That is until yesterday, Friday 11th December.
My acting team had been a bit of a disappointment to me by not knowing any of their lines two weeks after I had given them to them (this also being less than two weeks before the performance). It had been difficult getting everyone into rehearsals together and on the first rehearsal we had agreed on, they decided not to turn up to university and only let me know after I had messaged them. I thought this was pretty unprofessional of them and it really disappointed me. I let it go as I didn't want to cause any bad feelings. I didn't say anything to make any of them feel bad about letting me down.
We had a rehearsal the next day (which was a Tuesday) and the following Friday. We then had another rehearsal the following Monday (two and a half weeks after I first gave them the script) and they still had to work fully from their script. Again, I said nothing.
We rehearsed the next day and then the following Friday - yesterday.
The young PhD student was working with the groups. When he approached us I was discussing character with one of my actors. He wanted us to gather round him. He was quite insistent that we do it immediately. He wasn't messing around it seemed. This annoyed me as I was doing something constructive.
He then left us to work with others.
We carried on rehearsing. It was going smoothly.
He then came back and asked us to gather round him. Less forcefully. I told him to give me a minute as I was discussing character with one of my other actors.
When we went over to him he completely took over my production. This really bothered me. I am very opinionated and very intent on making it my own work. But he wasn't just working with us in an 'overall' way giving us suggestions, he was working on minutia and very specific details with my actors, and not consulting with me on any of it. I could feel myself beginning to get quite annoyed about it and was just waiting for him to leave us so I could take over again.
A few minutes later my actors showed us something he had told them to do, looking quite eager to do so. Whether the suggestion was a good one or not, I couldn't decide as I felt my constructiveness and artistic appreciation had been compromised. One of my actors asked me what I thought. I stood up and started walking towards them and said, "Well-"
It was at this point he interrupted me, walked in front of me, started to talk over me and addressed her question himself.
I turned towards a table with a pint glass on it almost in a fury and said quite angrily, "Fuck me!" The thought of throwing the glass went through my mind, but I simply pressed my fist into the table top and tried to get a grip on what was going through my head. One of my fellow students asked me if I was okay, and the girl he was talking to stayed quiet. She seemed quite uncomfortable. I decided immediately that I needed to leave because I know from experience that the next thing that happens is that I become quite forceful towards the person antagonising me.
I ran the events through my mind the whole cycle ride home. I knew that what had happened was not good, but I was left with either stay and make myself look like a psycho, or leave (which meant leaving my four actors without their director). The PhD student was still there to give them advice and the actors all have experience, so even though it was not ideal, I knew it would not be like leaving a child alone in a pub.
When I arrived home I tried to calm down before reading the messages that would be awaiting me. I was expecting messages asking if I was okay and asking what happened. There were two messages. One saying it was wrong that I left them without saying anything and the other agreeing with the first message.
I replied that I was feeling really angry about what had happened and I really didn't feel like being told off right now.
The response was that she was not telling me off, but it was wrong for me to leave them like that. Although I adore the person who was writing it (I know the positive feelings aren't as mutually strong - she isn't an idiot) I shrugged my shoulders to her message that she wasn't aware that telling someone they were wrong to do what they'd done and that they'd let them down was in fact telling them off (no matter how sugar-coated was the intent).
The other two actors agreed with the first two letting me know that it was wrong of me to do what I'd done, which basically helped to keep me stressed out. The messages continued sporadically until early evening, until the last one came through by itself, long after, at 9pm. She told me what I'd said to them was not justification for what I'd done and it was very unprofessional. I'd had enough of it all by then and told her not to include me in any more conversation on the subject. What I really should have asked was: what did you hope to achieve by sending me this message now? (after all, she had not said anything the others hadn't already voiced). It would've been interesting to know what her reply would have been.
I heard no more from them. But I knew a few of them were out together at another student's birthday party, so this obviously bothered me a little as I knew they would be reliving their day to other people and I would be seen as the irrational bad guy in their retelling.
The next day (today) I sent them a document I had said I would send them the day before at a time when all was happy. No one replied, or acknowledged that I'd sent them it. They mostly don't reply to my messages over the weekend apart from one of them. She didn't acknowledge that I'd sent the document.
So, now I'm left feeling quite low. Contemplating leaving my degree course. Nothing is going to change for me. If I leave now I will have less debt. My degree will probably not help me once I graduate anyway as I can't change the person I am or the age I am.
What made things just that little bit worse, by the way, was my housemate. she is the mother of my daughter. She doesn't particularly like me and resents me living with her. She tries to avoid conversations with me unless there is something to say. Well, i tried to reach out to her just by making conversation about the baby so that I might be able to off-load some of the stress I was feeling. The downside of any conversation I have with her (something which had slipped my mind quite frustratingly) is that she takes everything I say to her about the baby as an attack on her. So she got pissed off with me which exacerbated my chagrin.
So I was left alone with no one to talk to and with no one to share my problems with. Maybe this would've been the perfect time to tell my actors how unprofessional I had found their behaviour on that first rehearsal day and that me walking out 45 minutes early rather than acting like a psycho really was my only option. I am emotionally damaged. I know this. But I also have a functional brain which provides me with the ability to choose between the lesser of a choice of evils. Long term abuse - severe abuse - causes psychological damage. It's that simple.

Friday 11 December 2015

Friday 11th

Not turning up for the first rehearsal and not telling the director, but waiting for the director to message you when he is the only person who HAS turned up. Is that professional?
Not responding to messages over the weekends. Professional?
Not learning any lines less than two weeks before the performance when the director spent a couple of hours scanning, cutting and printing the script off. Professional?
Not reading the source text from beginning to end. Professional?
Telling someone who is obviously suffering from stress that you’re not having a go at them, but finishing your message with how he has let you down. Empathy?
Not asking someone who is obviously suffering from stress if he is okay. Empathy?

Telling your actors that you can’t make certain days because you have to look after your daughter, but telling them you are available every evening and every weekend for rehearsals. Is that above and beyond? Is that ever addressed when the same director leaves 45 minutes early due to overwhelming issues regarding being undermined and negated? Is that fair?
Being there to answer all your questions when you ask them? Professional?
Always being early and always being there for rehearsals? Professional?

Did you ever consider that feeling so incredibly stressed might actually be counter-productive when trying to be creative and supportive? Was leaving not the better option? Did you stop to think how badly things might’ve gone for me if I did erupt on Naqqash?
I left 45 minutes early once! Due to incredible stress. Did anyone ask if I was okay? I always show concern for you. I always ask if you’re okay or show compassion towards you. What happens when I need that? I get a full day of messages on facebook telling me I’m unprofessional or have let you down. This is not good.

Monday 7 December 2015

Alone in the Corner

My iPad was low on charge last night. I decided not to charge it, rather taking the decision to charge it during my lecture and seminar the next day.
So, I arrived in class early and plugged it in.
Friends and classmates started arriving sporadically, chatting and chatting some more, sitting themselves down around the classroom. None of them sitting near me.
As a person who has very few friends in life and as someone who has experienced complete abandonment, being left by myself while everyone is chatting eagerly around me is a very distracting, deep, and heavy feeling. It's a feeling that has been reinforced repeatedly and further exposure to it affects me emotionally.
I must put on a happy face. I don't feel happy. I feel horrible right now. I need to know specifically what it is that I give off that repels people so much. I know that I try to be friendly, courteous and considerate. Even generous. So why does this keep happening to me?

Saturday 5 December 2015

I, Deity

A guy off't t'internet was angry at me for watching Whiplash on YouTube. He called me a couple of names. I replied with my usual wit and intelligent charm. I'm charming and witty. Also, I'm intelligent. And witty and charming and intelligent. So I replied thusly... :

'I think you're angry at something (other than what you're addressing here) and are just reaching for low hanging fruit. You don't care about video piracy. You know it's wrong, just like the rest of us, but you don't really care. What you're doing here is commenting on something to make you feel better about yourself because there is a subconscious part of you that thinks people will like you more for your honour. Or you might just be a self-righteous prick. Either one is good. Laters, dickwad.'

He replied. Then I replied charmingly intelligent and with wit.

His next reply was an attempt at olive branch humour. He knew his place.

My final response was equally olive branchy... and charming and witty. With intelligence.

I am a kind god.

Tuesday 1 December 2015

Troubling

I have a friend who went through depression when she was younger. She had a baby but had had problems with the father. One day she decided to finish it all, but being a 'good mother' and not wanting the baby to grow up without her, she made the decision to kill the baby with her. She was certain this was the best thing for the child and still is even though her son (a very handsome young man) is now over 10 years old. She had nothing but support after the episode. We all know that you should not put pressure on young 'mothers' but should only give them love and support.
She just posted a Golly-wog on Facebook. It's troubling that she doesn't acknowledge that Robertson's jam Golly-wogs promote racist jibes against black people. They aren't a cute symbol of unjustified political correctness.
Racist, wanted to kill her son. She seems like a lovely person apart from that. It's troubling.

Thursday 26 November 2015

Quitters Inc.

I'd like to quit. I can't take the stress. I can't take the 'nothing happening all the time' and still having stress. I can't take wondering about things all the time and never knowing. I want to get up tomorrow morning and go and hide somewhere until the house is empty then go back and just do nothing the whole day. Or I'd like to find a few million quid and live off that. I'd go and do the things I have to that'll get me close to square with the world, and while I'm doing that I'll be going to nice restaurants and going to the theatre and the cinema, I'll be looking for a lovely house somewhere and driving a beautiful car. I'll attract a gold digger who won't know that she's gonna get nothing but what I want to give to her. And once I'm ready, I'll be going to America and going exploring. I'll be doing the things I would've wanted to do if I'd married a sane person all those years ago. So many fucking years lost because I married a cunt. There's a lot of bad luck flying around and it had to land somewhere. It landed on me after it was done with Andy Dufresne. But he was lucky. He was just a character in a Stephen King novella.

A Poem - Started 26th November 2015

I'm gonna write a poem. I haven't written a poem for about a year. Maybe less. But I want to write a poem on here. I think I'll write the first draft, then when I change something I'll write it above the first draft so I can see how it evolves. It may not be an interesting process, but it'll be a process. Nowt wrong with that. [Smiley face]

FIRST DRAFT

What do I feel strongly about right now?
I just don't know what to write.
The empty lives of neighbours and passers-by
Outweigh the bulging lives of cattle

There is little drive to drive the wheels,
But the wheels turning still
On the track with the lines the only guide
And the glasses must come off soon.

I fix the loan of tankered mists
And help myself to a ginger biscuit
With an army for a nose in the impenetrable
Foe of the newly minted shores of forgiveness.

A haystack falls in silence and no one can hear the
Pin that has fallen through the cracks
It pierces the night with a sharpness only few have witnessed
But now it is stuck. It is buried in soil that was never meant for a pin.

It slows now.
Like a snail at snails pace
The trail of the snail writing its history on the slab
The slab the only future for the rest of us.

[Okay, so that's the first draft. I struggled for something to write, then I moved into stream of consciousness mode and wrote only bilge-water. Sue me. (Please don't sue me). I'll write the next draft above this one when I feel the need]

Be Like Jesus

Don't let other people down when you're all supposed to be pulling in the same direction. Pick up the rope and pull. Don't drop the rope and start pushing in the other direction. If someone asks you if you'd like to join him, say either yes, no, or be as quick as you can to give an answer. Don't take ten - yes, that's right - ten days to make up your mind. It's disrespectful and completely out of order. It only took Jesus two days to die on a cross. Be like Jesus and be brief when you're hanging around and don't leave people... hanging around.

Wednesday 25 November 2015

They Never Said Columbus Wasn’t Fat

We’re sometimes told that everyone thought the world was flat before Columbus sailed to the New World. This is a fallacy. There was a guy from Greece who discovered that the world was round in 300BCE. He was so accurate that his estimation was only 1% out. Eratosthenes was his name. Mathematics was his profession. I don’t know what his game was. But the Columbus fallacy came out of laziness, being used by Washington Irving as an embellishment in his biography of the 15th Century explorer maybe as a way to pad the book out and deflect attention away from Columbus’ more genocidal tendencies. But, from there it became adopted by anyone who wanted to make a point about how we should put little weight behind the Argumentum ad Populum – the argument that, just because most people believe something to be true, does not mean it actually is so. My own favourite way to counter anyone who tries to use the ‘a billion Chinese people can’t be wrong’ assertion is to quote Mahatma Gandhi: ‘Error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error just because nobody sees it. Truth stands even if there be no public support. It is self-sustained’. He may not have been able to conjugate the verb ‘to be’ (making him sound a country bumpkin) but I’m sure you’ll agree, it is quite profound nonetheless.

Monday 23 November 2015

Sharpe's Downfall

My name is Islington Sharpe. My friends at the club call me shagger. I mean, that's not true, they called me shagger once after I had relations with a horse, but they usually just call me pin. Short for pinhead and related to Sharpe – Sharpe being my last name as I wrote two lines ago. I used to have a fear of frogs. One exploded on me after I found it inflated on the pond at our summer home in Spain. No, sorry, not Spain. Portugal. Hmm, it was one of those places. Mediterranean. Hot as shit. Frogs that swell up in the heat and explode, as I recall.
But that was then, and this is now.
We don't live in Surrey anymore. Daddy took a hit in ’05 and we moved to get away from the gossip. We live in New England now. Daddy bought a house for mummy, but she died just after her Green Card arrived. I love New England. The colours. The trees. The yacht is my first memory, if I'm honest. Watching Daddy sail away with his chums. Mummy used to get awfully drunk when daddy was away. She'd cry when Uncle Stephen left too. Told me not to tell daddy about Uncle Stephen. She says, even though they aren't brothers, they hate each other all the same and daddy would get angry to know that he'd visited mummy while he was away with the boys.
I loved Uncle Stephen. He used to take me out for walks in the morning so mummy could have time to rehydrate. Alcoholism is such a bind in mothers. I do miss her.
I once bought a spot of land in Slovakia. Best thing I ever did. The price has rocketed ever since the locals were relocated. We found oil which is now officially ours after the court hearing. Twenty years of oil. That should take me over ten billion. We're already thinking about where to start with the fracking process, but we don't want to do that while the oil is still chugging up. The stock prices rise every day. I check them every morning.
But I do miss Uncle Stephen. I think about him often. Thinking about him now… but then again, I suppose it would be impossible not to think about them when you're writing about them, what. I just wish he hadn't disappeared like that so soon after mummy’s passing. I needed a shoulder. A big strong shoulder. But, off the face of the planet. It's like he was burned to dust or dropped in the ocean somewhere. I just don't know. I regret not telling him I loved him. I wanted to show him my Lamborghini. I got it with my inheritance. I love my inheritance. In a way I'd say it's my greatest achievement. Mummy used to say she’d never leave me anything, but I managed to worm my way into her good books… with some help from Uncle Stephen. I carry a lock of his hair with me in a little case. I have it in my pocket right now. There you go Uncle Stephen. Giving you a nice stroke. You liked to be stroked didn't you? I have this recurring dream where he's my Golden Retriever and we frolic on the fields. He used to sing a song to me: ‘Alice’ by Roy Chubby Brown. It's my favourite song. I think if I was forced, I'd seriously consider giving my life for that man as long as there were paramedics and doctors standing by. I loved his scent. I used to say ‘you know, Uncle Stephen, if I was a woman, I'd fall for you so hard’. I said it too often. But he always smiled. But now, all I have is Daddy, and I never see him. Hardly ever.
Poor mummy. Poor me.

So, it came as a huge surprise when daddy found out about me and Uncle Stephen. He was furious. He wrote me out of his will. That was failure number one. Number two was the uprising in Slovakia and the dictatorship of a man whose name I have difficulty pronouncing. I lost the oilfields. As all the property I had was in daddy's name, that became failure number three. Failure number four was not knowing about Unemployment Benefit. I was basically starving for three weeks, living only on water provided by the food bank. I don't eat tinned food, you see. Gives you cancer.
But then I met Jason and Susie. Such charming people. Collectively, they have thirteen teeth and they smell a little, but I only know that because people hold their noses around them. I have anosmia from the accident on daddy’s yacht. The swinging sail that knocked me overboard. They said it was a good thing I lost consciousness when my nose broke or I would've died of a heart attack when the shark showed up. Attracted by the blood, you see.
Lovely people, Jason and Susie. They told me about Job Seeker’s Allowance and so now I get free money. I give them half to help them get by, but no matter how many times I tell them about mummy, they just won't stop drinking. “Ach, that'll never happen tee us, ye dumb bastard ye!” I told him that studies show that the more alcohol you drink, the greater is the probability that you'll die from alcoholism. He said, “Scottish people, de ne die fre alcohol, see-me? Scottish people, especially fre Glasgee can hold their liquor. See me...”
I did see him. I saw them both, but I couldn’t understand a blessed word they were saying. Though, if I could – understand them – I’d check out what they said on the computer if I had the money to buy one. As it is, I just took his word for it.
And I love their accents. They remind me of the servants we used to have in our London home. ‘Jolly Scotch Fuckers’ is what daddy called them. But when he said it, it was as though he didn't really like them. I love them though. Have you ever been to the highlands? Oh, lovely place. Was thinking about buying a tent when I have enough money and asking for a lift (just to remind me what it was like to have a chauffeur, what). I was thinking, when I get there, I'll pitch up somewhere on the coast and just sit and watch the sea and the sun when there's a gap in the clouds.
Yes. A gap. I think I'll just sit there until I get too weak to do anything about it and I fall over from exhaustion. Too weak to move my eyes so all I can see are the waves and I can think about the yacht and Uncle Stephen and… well, then it'll be over and I'll be in heaven and I'll finally find out if the rumours were true about why Uncle Stephen disappeared.
I'll see if I can come back as a ghost, just like the Jedis do and give daddy a surprise. Hopefully that'll finish him off and he'll be together down there with mummy. They never did like the heat that much. Pity.

Saturday 14 November 2015

Intolerant, Ignorant and Crass

Everyday I get offended by the ignorance of others. Their beliefs in astrology, spirituality and religion. Three subjects which I like to call 'The Supernatural'.

Yesterday, as I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed, I saw that one of my friends had left a comment regarding another atrocity in Paris. I turned on the news to find reports of carnage (that carried the foul odour of Islam within it). 40 dead. 100 hostages. Gunfire. Bombings.

Most of my friends were putting statuses such as 'our prayers are with them, 'pray for them' etc. This grates at me. The cause of Islamic terrorism is due to their belief in the supernatural and the scriptures from where there misguided and harmful dogmas are perpetuated. My comment therefore was:

'40 killed so far and 100 hostages taken. Why? Because they are angry that some people don't believe in their invisible friend.'

a 'friend' of mine who believes in the supernatural (Christian flavour) responded:

'you come up with some incredible nonsense but this is easily the most crass, insensitive and ignorant post I've seen from you. Of course, I haven't read them all'

An almost witty final sentence. I respected him for that. I was also angered though. He had written this on my wall where people could read it and have their hatred of me reinforced. (we must keep hatred quiet as it's not nice). Now, I had already got the feeling this guy didn't like me from his tone at times, but I had always been respectful, friendly and supportive towards him (although I never kept my beliefs regarding the supernatural quiet around him). All that being said, here is my reply:

'That's a powerful argument, ....... Tell me where it's crass. Tell me where it's insensitive. Tell me where it's ignorant. The only part of your comment I have any respect for is your attempt at humour in your last sentence. I apologise if you have some kind of attachment to the supernatural, but that's something you'll have to get over all by yourself.'

I was still annoyed though, so I started to write another reply which began: 'How dare you write something like this...' - it was at this point Imogen pooed in her pants and I had to go and shower her (she's 27 - you'd think she would have learned to go to the toilet by now). Anyway, when I came back down, I started to rewrite my second reply:

'You[r] comment was pretty low, ....... If you're going to write something brusque, at least have the decency to tell us all what you believe to be the cogent arguments so we can all see the ridiculous nonsense that goes on inside your head'

It's never good to get into these arguments. I need to vent. People who don't like me are upset when my venting is focused on things they hold dear... I wish things were different, but it's not me that defends those who are murdering innocent people.

God I fucking hate people. (I don't kill 'em though)

Wednesday 11 November 2015

Week 7

Don't want to belabour the point, but I'm struggling for motivation and I'm struggling to get through the day. I don't know things are so difficult right now. My head just feels wrecked. I need a break. A real break, not just time off. I need to get away. Holiday. I know that's not gonna happen though.

Struggles

Things are just getting too much for me. I'm struggling.

Sunday 1 November 2015

Seeing Life

I watch the Facebook feed. I see people I know with loved ones and friends. I try to remember what that felt like. It makes me sad that this is the way my life has ended up. Maybe I was always destined to lose all my friends. I just wish i had family so I could feel some warmth and affection.

Wednesday 30 September 2015

180

Here is a Facebook status I almost added, but decided not to for fear the male ovaries might explode:

In a complete 180 from the way I felt last night, I would like to say how indifferent I feel towards those who commit honour killings and force women (and men) into arranged marriages. I wish nothing but the best to those who commit some much needed murders against their family members. If it was up to me, I'd give you all a damn medal. To all those who go above and beyond in securing their family's good name by killing their sisters and daughters, I salute you! (I'll probably feel different about all this tomorrow depending on the over-sensitive reaction of anyone who cares to comment below)

the previous night's status was this:

This may make me sound like a complete psycho, but I'd love to have the ability to know when someone is going to do an honour killing on their daughter/sister. I'd like to be able to lock them in a room, then spend the next few days wondering whether to let them starve to death for wanting to commit such a horrible crime on someone they're supposed to love, or whether to do a bit of torturing on them first... whilst allowing them to starve... or maybe i'd feed them just to make it last. Here's a video of a baby monkey going backwards on a pig

[ I added a video of a baby monkey riding backwards on a pig https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_sfnQDr1-o&feature=youtu.be ]

the comments were as follows ('HIM' is a friend of mine. 'ME' is me. 'Imke' is my niece's mum):

  • Imke Verstappen likes this.
  • Comments
      • HIM - Really didn't enjoy reading that one, Chris. You want to torture and kill, huh.
      • ME - I've had a rethink. If the day ever comes when I get this superpower, I'll reconsider whether doing what I wrote is a good idea. I'll ponder it for a while. Maybe stopping those from killing innocent loved ones and then letting them to starve to death (and doing a bit of torture on them) isn't a good idea. Maybe i'll just keep my interfering nose out of their business. That song in the baby monkey video is a bit annoying.

So that was last night. My friend is a male feminist. I abhor feminism.