Saturday, 29 January 2011

National, write a post with a lisp, day

It'th been awhile thince I pothted of my caffeine-abthtinence, the 21tht Augutht 2010, to be precithe, tho I thought it about time I gave a quickie update.


Thince Augutht I've given up alcohol too which, along with thothe other viceth and pleathureth that theemingly have given me up, it leaveth bithcuitth (without chocolate of courthe) ath one of my few remaining indulgenceth. Tho...


You'd be excuthed for thinking I've become a twitching wreck, thporting the haunted look of a man bereft of thenthual delightth, but think again. I'm actually all the better for it (thee photo above - really jutht an excuthe to thhow off my new jacket).


Ath promithed by the "thcientithtth", laying off caffeine hath made me calmer, leth prone, ath they thay, "to exaggerating my emotional rethpontheth", but the betht outcome hath to be from thlinging the booze into touch.


Counter-intuitively (how many people claim drink helpth them thleep?), teetotalithm hath enabled me to thleep all night through, inthtead of the uthual 3 to 4 tholid hourth followed by an abrupt awakening and fitful thleep thereafter. Strangely though, I dream a lot more than I uthed to (or ith it that I remember them thethe dayth?). Ith there'th a Jungian in the houthe?


It'th an improvement, though I'm far from claiming to be a different perthon. I like to think I'm the thame perthon but with thome of the rough edgeth removed.


Hmm... what elthe can I give up? Swearing perhapth? Nah, fuck that for a game of tholdiers!


--------------------------------------------------------------------------


Coming soon: National, writing a post while one's testicles are slowly but progressively squeezed tighter and tighter in a vice, day


Excerpt...


Along with my dislike of nice as a... eeeurrgh... description of myself, I'm equally... aaahhh... perturbed to hear the phrase applied, "he's as good as... OH MY FUCKING GOD.. gold!". Take my word, men described thus are... jesus christ.. put upon sad victims of the belief (inculcated during childhood) that women... NO, NO, NO, NO... are not only the fairer, gentler sex, but... eeeeeeeek! are by sole virtue of their gender, to be... NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!... pedestalised (my word) too. Of course... nyeeeeeeeegh!... the truth... aaarrrggghhh!... is, they're not fairer or gentler, so to be set upon a plinth... PLEASE GOD, I SWEAR, I'LL BE GOOD... oooooooaaaaahhh!... they ought to at least merit the position, but of course... OH NO... the damage... SHIIIIIIIIIIIT... is done, and the hapless wretches are preyed upon... (to be continued)


Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Light banter

Annus Horribilis. Sounds awful, doesn't it? Like some festering blight of the back-passage? Well it's not. For the benefit of those not clued-up on Latin, it means, "Horrible Year"; a phrase intended to be the title of my magnum opus (for last year anyway), a summation of the 12 or so months recently passed. A horrid time. A time of unspeakable, barely bloggable events. A living horror. Apart, of course, from the four holidays: three cruises and sojourn into the Emerald Isle. But still, a veritable nightmare. Though in fairness, those moments of joy, of pure escapism - when watching films and reading books for instance - should be excluded, along with the jollity and hilarity of the office-banter, and those brief, but meditative moments spent on the daily train journey into work (oh how I love travelling). But apart from these, it's been hell, it really has... I mean... well... sorry, but I just can't talk about it.

Fiat Lux
. Or, as they say around these parts, "Let there be light". I say this apropos of nothing, other than to operate on the age-old writer's maxim, "when you've nothing to say, bung in a few foreign phrases for effect!". So, wihout further ado, I shall carpe diem and move forth... and talking of light, I've navigated this winter so far without the usual woe-is-me I'm depressed grumblings; though, in my defence, I beleive I'm a victim of that pernicious affliction, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD); which is why I've purchased a SAD light. I wont bore you with the technical details (mainly because I don't know them) but I'll guess and say, it provides a light of the requisite brightness, akin to that of bright daylight, thus increasing serotonin levels in the nervous system. Result: a measure of well-being. So it's not unusual to see me tapping away at me laptop in the glare of this white light, at something around regulo 7(180C), and basting myself with thoughts of... well never you mind.. seems to work. And besides, it could be worse, I could live in Finland, land of the sunless days, polar bears, wolverines, and kangaroos... no, that can't be right... aren't polar bears from the Antarctic?


We've had an unusual amount of snow recently. I've always thought, "there's nothing like a bit of snow to make you think!". And it's true. It snowed, and would you believe... I actually thought! No sooner had it laid itself in pristine crystalline form only to begin thawing, when an idea came into my mind, it said... nay... it shouted, "Entropy!" Referring to that Universal movement of all things from order to disorder. This snow, thought I, represents the whole of the cosmos in microcosm, the inexorable move towards chaos (for an alternative metaphor, think of the annual Office Party, how it begins as opposed to its end). S'true. Though there might be an exception. Looking at mother confirms the hypothesis. In extreme old-age she's been entropolized real good: from a glowing, poised youth, she's now shrivelled, stooped and enfeebled, but...despite this fact, it's important to her to ensure the rubbish is put out in time for the bin-men. The idea itself, though seeded an age ago, remains intact. It's impervious to the degradation of her body and Universal laws, and I'm sure, even on her death-bed she'll hoarsely whisper, "have you put the bag out?". I like this idea. I like to think for a brief period at least, we're able to cock a snook at the Universe, to waggle our willies at it, metaphorically speaking, and cry, "FUCK YOU ENTROPY!"

Bwanas knockers*


* Buenas noches (Spanish) meaning, good night.