I Glow

Some shots of me done at midnight with very little light and a long exposure.

Short and only a little blasphemous.

I beheld a pale horse and upon it a pale rider.
And the Lord said "Those Bloody Emo kids have got into the stables again! Watkins, go give him a damn good thrashing".

As I Lay

As I lay there, I watch with cold indifference the branches that sway before me. I choose this moment, this time, this now. I choose this as the time for the path to open.




My leaking soul colours my world and perception becomes more than it ever was. Is a passing from one path to another always fraught with the fear of change?




In my movement, there are no edges any more. A path through the wooded knowledge or all that once was cannot calm me. Pastures new await me and their call is a siren song.






I go.

2am, can't sleep. Started Something.

So, I can't get to sleep.
I am forced into minor action by my angry brain. I start a story.
This is what I've got so far:




Do you know what the future hates?
It hates you.
You, you vacuous deep fried burger eating fuckstain.
Do you know why the future hates you? Because you have no plan to deal with your shit. You just want to eat, sleep, fuck and watch TV before you die. And what happens then?
The future.
The bright shining future you won’t see so you have helped conspire not to happen.
So yes, the Future hates you.
But that’s ok.
It’s why I’m here.





Yeah, no sleep makes me a happy go lucky person, don't it.

Useless Metaphysical Mechanic

*cough* *shudder* *splutter*
"Damn it, what's wrong this thing?"
*ding*
"Maybe I can help, sir?"
"I dunno. It was going alright, now it seems to have trouble going anywhere. I think it's got stuck."
"Let me check" *Hits it with a hammer* "Sorry, sir. I think you're going to have to make the best of it."
"Well what's wrong with it?"
‎"Like you said, sir, stuck. Just try giving it a shift in direction every now and then."
"I do, but the roads keep crumbling."
"Well, keep trying, sir, everyone's got to find their own path for their life. Sorry I couldn't be more help."
"Cliche spouting tit." *Hits life with spanner and swears at it*
"Come on, come on. I was supposed to be somewhere by now!"

Drunk and Loving the A-Team

Title pretty much says it all.
I have been knocking back the cheapCarlsberg I bought at Tesco earlier.
Watched Match of the Day and saw Samir Nasri make the Fulham players look like complete tits while taking Arsenal to the top of the league - so the evening started well.
Then I tried to watch Vertigo after several beers and while fiddling on the laptoipo. Next thing I know its 20 minutes in and I've watched none of it.
So Vertigo goes and instead the last 2 episodes of The A-Team Season 3 go in.
Now I love this show. Not in an ironic "Oh look at how cheesy this all is, let's laugh at how they kill no-one."
NO.
I really love this show. I grew up watching it Saturday tea times and have plowed my way through the boxset of season 1-3 whenever I've had a break in my regularly scheduled entertainment.
It's wonderful, a proper family action show. Murdock was always my favourite, but I find I appreciate Face and the shit he goes through much more now.
All I need to do is buy the final 2 seasons and I'm going to be one happy bunny.

Return from the wherever I was

It's been a long six months since I last wrote. Everything was going fine between us, I had my novel and you had my banging on about how much I was getting done. It was the perfect kind of relationship, I could vent and you just took it.
But then something new and shiny came into my life. Promising a quick sensation release, saying my words would be out there almost immediately and people would defintely read them. Well, I fell for it. Writing short stories about a character that has lurked in my head for a few years now. Oh, how optimistically we all got stuck in. There was a website, a name, and I'd gone into seven weeks worth of content before I understood that I would be getting no more responses from the guy behind it.
Seven weeks worth of stories that now languish, crying to be set free, if only I can devise a platform.
Worst of all, I left you for this failure and never even bothered to write. The novel lay alone in its file, untouched, unloved, my mind occupied by the collapse of the shiny new thing that had so entranced me.

Cut to six months later.
My friends got married this weekend and it was brilliant. Meeting people I'd never seen. Seeing people I hadn't chated to for ages.
Then realising that all of my friends are moving on, making a life and I'm still living at home with my parents and going nowhere.
It was all I needed really, a swift metaphorical butt kicking.
So on Monday I was back in the routine. Up before 9, breakfast, coffee, then writing.

I'm averaging just over a thousand words a day, broke the 50 thousand word barrier yesterday and realised that I'm going to go past the 60k ideal I was aiming for.
Anyway, let's have the tally:
Words done Monday: 1290
Words done Tuesday: 1099
Words done Wednesday: 1712
Words done Thursday: 1067
Total words this week: 5168

Total words so far: 50080