It's all a bit weird over here. First off, I am ill, not ill in a boring normal sniffly way, nor anything especially colourful, but I am ill like a plague victim awaiting the merciful blow of Eric Idle dressed in rags to finish me off.
Well maybe not quite that ill (" I think I'll go for a walk!") but I have been so tired the last few days I've slept for something like 13 hours of every 24, which is just not me, sorta thing.
I have started a new blog, by the way. I intended it to be a mroe refined, more professional version of this one (no swearing, magazine-style articles in a proper journalistic vein) but I can't find the enthusiasm for it yet, and I re-read the first proper thing I wrote; a summary of Queenstown made in competitive stylee for www.Suite101.com but I really just don't like it. Have a look if you like but I have missed at least a half-dozen bloody obvious errors and I think it's a bit poo, quite honestly.
Mainly I wanted to leave blog.co.uk as it happens, and move to Wordpress which is the weblog site du jour and stands to get my ramblings to a far wider audience. The fate of Versive was sealed after I read the `featured blogs` on the frontpage of this site yet again, and was yet again dismayed that a spastic monkey had been given a virtual medal for yet again trotting out yet more annoying A-level socialism, again.
Please, please can we all just recognise that it won't work and let all the naive idealist commie pinko bead-wearing fuckwits go back to pretending to read Russian philosophy?
Thank you.
I moved hostels as well, and carrying only half my stuff across town this morning all but killed me. Doing it twice, and I was glad I was passing the cathedral I can tell you, in case I did as I wanted and dropped dead on the steps at least I stood a good chance of a decent burial.
Oh yes, I am really trying, really trying to start a book properly now; I have some pretty good stuff to begin with and have spent two days trying to fight some sense onto the page through a fog of lethargy and constant 1940s evacuee style midnight/midday flights to the safety of the bathroom from the menace of the, well, the forboding rumblings of an incoming low-level bomber, not to put too fine a point on it.
The Western has been hselved pending proper characters. I have a good style and setting and some good events, but my puppets are still shit in that play. The new one seems to have real people in it that can go places and do stuff, all I gotta do is think of some really good stuff for them to do.
What else? Ah, I have been trawling my online photos and am harvesting the best for Facebook, and will get the best of the stuff since Vietnam up here at last right after that. Having a data- entry job has been beneficial in unforseen ways, as I no longer get into a furious rage sitting at a computer doing the same boring thing over and over, so I can at last tackle the onerous job of sifting, saving, uploading and posting several thousand photos. Twice.
I'm still working the bar in Shooters every Friday and Saturday and the rest of the staff are wicked-cool, which is nice. I may even have a job doing something relevant to my experience with a property developer, but I have to stop now because this seems to me far too much like settling-down talk, and is unlikely to lead to many thrilling adventures anytime soon. I miss thrilling adventures. It's been ages since I was in any kind of seriosu trouble.
Peace out, I'm off to the doctors for a medical to see what is broken. Every time I make an apointment here it's going to cost me $35 - $50 just to be seen, and today I'm forking oout about $200 as an initial Who-the-fuck-and-What-the-fuck-is-wrong-with You.
I will never complain about the NHS again.
