Yesterdays P&L: GBP -410.00
Yesterdays Booze: 3 pints of dry cider, 1 large Remy Martin XO
Yesterdays Soundtrack: Elvis
A rough day on the markets. Just a few spread trades on the DAX 30 and the FTSE 100. Every time I went long, I got squeezed and closed out the trade for a small loss, they all add up. It's not a lot of money but I can ill afford any losses right now. I had hoped that the markets would return to normal after the Christmas break but liquidity remains tight.
The predominant sound of my day was Elvis. I am an eighties boy but I love the sound of black velvet. When I was in a band I made a lot of use of reverbs, harmonisers and compressors. Elvis used a microphone, my favourite five Elvis tracks:
In The Ghetto - An easy choice and in line with a recent post from the delectable Kitty on her blog, who can hear the lyrics "And his mama cries" without feeling some sadness?
Heartbreak Hotel - The original and best. Elvis as a young man but already singing about the loneliness and isolation that was his inevitable future. "Although its always crowded, You can still find some room, Where broken hearted lovers do cry away their gloom".
Suspicious Minds - Isn't it funny how sometimes the more you care about someone, the more doubts you have.
Viva Las Vegas - Party song for a party town. But if you strip the glitz away there is a very dark side. The acoustic cover by Phil Cody reeks of desperation. If I opened a school the motto would definitely be "All you need's a strong heart and nerves of steel".
Always On My Mind - Sometimes you don't know what you have until you lose it.
I should make a comment about the tragic earthquake in Haiti. I can't stand this kind of thing and I can see why so many people question the existence of God when something like this happens. It all seems so random and pointless. I felt exactly the same after the Tsunami, I used to live in North Sumatra so that had more of an impact on me but tragedy is tragedy, some just seem more personal than others. At least the governments of the world are making the right noises about mobilizing aid for one of the poorest and unluckiest countries in the World. If America can spend so much money sending military half way across the world then even in these recessionary times they should pull out the stops for a country practically on their doorstop. Even if it doesn't have any oil.
Seeing how ill equipped the UK is to deal with snow in Winter, we can only be glad we are not on a major fault line.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Monday, 11 January 2010
In A New York Minute
Today's P&L: GBP 150.00
Today's Booze: 2 pints of Stella Artois, 1 large Rum Coffee
Today's Soundtrack: Don Henley / The Eagles
Another boring day, I am beginning to see why I drink so much. Christ, if regular, sober life is so boring maybe it would be better if someone put me out of my misery now. When I was a youngster I used to do so much that drinking used to be something I had to fit in my life. I was in a band, I used to write, I fancied myself an artist, there were lots of girlfriends.
What am I supposed to do now, get a hobby? Playing with trains, stamp collecting, classic cars? I don't need to go out looking for girls, I already have a stalker and anyway, whats another girl going to mean to me, I am forty after all.
In line with the music off the day though, everything can change in a New York Minute. What a great song that is. Of course to people like me, the lyrics are fantastic.
"Harry got up,Dressed all in black
Went down to the station And he never came back
They found his clothing Scattered somewhere down the track
And he won't be down on Wall Street in the morning"
"He had a home, The love of a girl
But men get lost sometimes, As years unfurl
One day he crossed some line
And he was too much in this world
But I guess it doesn't matter anymore"
For me, this is one of the most perfect songs ever - not the whole Wall Street thing, my mother used to say to me I was too much of this world and that was when I was being relatively spiritual and I do wear a lot of black.
Maybe its time for some change in this world, we seem to be continuing down the same sorry path. Economically, America is still swaggering around like a heavyweight boxer that has taken too much punishment but is likely to make it through the next round. GM has decided to start talking tough about closing Saab in Sweden, the same GM that was on its knees crying for state aid a year ago. I don't know why the Americans think closing Saab down will bother the Swedes above and beyond the inevitable sting to national pride. Sweden isn't like the UK or America. These workers will be taken care of by the state. Almost all Scandinavians have, by our standard, an impossibly high social safety net. Britain is likely to be moribund until the election and probably afterward, because if there is any justice there should be a hung parliament, so I will have to reconsider my EUR/GBP trade. I am a bit surprised that China finally managed to overtake Germany as the worlds export engine. Perhaps it signifies that the world loves the kind of "cost effective" tat The Chinese make instead of the slightly higher quality stuff made by our German friends.
Today's Booze: 2 pints of Stella Artois, 1 large Rum Coffee
Today's Soundtrack: Don Henley / The Eagles
Another boring day, I am beginning to see why I drink so much. Christ, if regular, sober life is so boring maybe it would be better if someone put me out of my misery now. When I was a youngster I used to do so much that drinking used to be something I had to fit in my life. I was in a band, I used to write, I fancied myself an artist, there were lots of girlfriends.
What am I supposed to do now, get a hobby? Playing with trains, stamp collecting, classic cars? I don't need to go out looking for girls, I already have a stalker and anyway, whats another girl going to mean to me, I am forty after all.
In line with the music off the day though, everything can change in a New York Minute. What a great song that is. Of course to people like me, the lyrics are fantastic.
"Harry got up,Dressed all in black
Went down to the station And he never came back
They found his clothing Scattered somewhere down the track
And he won't be down on Wall Street in the morning"
"He had a home, The love of a girl
But men get lost sometimes, As years unfurl
One day he crossed some line
And he was too much in this world
But I guess it doesn't matter anymore"
For me, this is one of the most perfect songs ever - not the whole Wall Street thing, my mother used to say to me I was too much of this world and that was when I was being relatively spiritual and I do wear a lot of black.
Maybe its time for some change in this world, we seem to be continuing down the same sorry path. Economically, America is still swaggering around like a heavyweight boxer that has taken too much punishment but is likely to make it through the next round. GM has decided to start talking tough about closing Saab in Sweden, the same GM that was on its knees crying for state aid a year ago. I don't know why the Americans think closing Saab down will bother the Swedes above and beyond the inevitable sting to national pride. Sweden isn't like the UK or America. These workers will be taken care of by the state. Almost all Scandinavians have, by our standard, an impossibly high social safety net. Britain is likely to be moribund until the election and probably afterward, because if there is any justice there should be a hung parliament, so I will have to reconsider my EUR/GBP trade. I am a bit surprised that China finally managed to overtake Germany as the worlds export engine. Perhaps it signifies that the world loves the kind of "cost effective" tat The Chinese make instead of the slightly higher quality stuff made by our German friends.
Sunday, 10 January 2010
Blank Pages
Today's P&L: Weekends, suppose I could trade the gold in the middle east
Today's Booze: Still being good, 2 pints of Aspinall Cider, 1 Pint of Stella Artois
Today's Soundtrack: The Rolling Stones
Well as my drinking is likely to dwindle until I have seen the quack, I have added the soundtrack to my day. I have been listening to other artists but the band of the day has been The Rolling Stones. I think I have almost all there records on my computer - records, how quaint! Next I shall be talking about going to the disco. The Stones are a little like me, against all odds they keep going. I have seen them in concert a few times and they are excellent. Still I suppose if you do anything long enough you develop a certain aptitude. A lot of people deride their huge money-making tours, but hey they give the public what they want. First Stones concert I saw was in the early Eighties, a European tour they knocked together after the success of the Still Life American tour. By all accounts they hated each other at this point but they still put on a good show. Back Then they played Wembley Stadium without any of the huge screens we are used to now. I actually met Jagger once in the club of a hotel in Bangkok, didn't get long to talk to him as he is very distant. For a small guy he is very impressive. He gives the aura of being much taller and I doubt I have seen a man who stands as ramrod straight as he does. Anyway after listening to The Stones all day, my favourite five tracks are;
Under My Thumb - The ultimate misogynist song of all time. I like to think I am not a misogynist, but I defy any man to listen to this and recall a time when he was messed around by a woman he probably cared too much for.
Gimmie Shelter - The song that rang in the changes from the hippy Sixties to the Seventies. An absolutely brilliant song that, to me screams of paranoia and desperation. When I hear this and close my eyes I see an eight track bolted to the side of a helicopter flying over Viet-Nam during the war.
Miss You - Still in the Seventies, The Stones go Disco, (told you). Disco music was supposed to be happy though. Jagger sings this like a man who is too tired, seen too much. Strangely it makes me think of back in the mid eighties after an all night party with a high school girlfriend. Not in the city, in the suburbs. That cold early morning feeling you get when you have been up all night. You are tired but you don't feel it because you are excited to be with someone. You exchange some small words of affection at the end of her road, kiss briefly and walk home feeling like you own the world.
Anybody Seen My Baby? - One of the Stones least popular records but this song is good. Predictably it speaks to me of loss. For me it reminds me of endless hours in Airports in Asia looking at people as they walk past, scanning the faces of women to see if it was either The Stalker or later, The Lunatic. KLIA in Malaysia is an especially soulless airport where I would wander through the oversized and bizarrely empty walkways, Knowing it was a place that my ex girlfriends were likely to fly through on a regular basis, but really what are the chances of bumping into someone in an international hub airport?
Wild Horses - I don't know why I love this song.
So why did I call this post blank pages? Well, I have been staring at the expensive buttery pages of the journal the Stalker gave me trying to think of what to write. Its so odd, in front of a keyboard I can type away, but its all vapour. Having the beautiful fountain pen she gave me in one hand and the clear, expectant page in front of me seems so real, like you are committing to something. You can't just backspace so its like if you write something it better be worth it. Its so long since I have written anything by hand as well, I doubt my penmanship is up to much.
Today's Booze: Still being good, 2 pints of Aspinall Cider, 1 Pint of Stella Artois
Today's Soundtrack: The Rolling Stones
Well as my drinking is likely to dwindle until I have seen the quack, I have added the soundtrack to my day. I have been listening to other artists but the band of the day has been The Rolling Stones. I think I have almost all there records on my computer - records, how quaint! Next I shall be talking about going to the disco. The Stones are a little like me, against all odds they keep going. I have seen them in concert a few times and they are excellent. Still I suppose if you do anything long enough you develop a certain aptitude. A lot of people deride their huge money-making tours, but hey they give the public what they want. First Stones concert I saw was in the early Eighties, a European tour they knocked together after the success of the Still Life American tour. By all accounts they hated each other at this point but they still put on a good show. Back Then they played Wembley Stadium without any of the huge screens we are used to now. I actually met Jagger once in the club of a hotel in Bangkok, didn't get long to talk to him as he is very distant. For a small guy he is very impressive. He gives the aura of being much taller and I doubt I have seen a man who stands as ramrod straight as he does. Anyway after listening to The Stones all day, my favourite five tracks are;
Under My Thumb - The ultimate misogynist song of all time. I like to think I am not a misogynist, but I defy any man to listen to this and recall a time when he was messed around by a woman he probably cared too much for.
Gimmie Shelter - The song that rang in the changes from the hippy Sixties to the Seventies. An absolutely brilliant song that, to me screams of paranoia and desperation. When I hear this and close my eyes I see an eight track bolted to the side of a helicopter flying over Viet-Nam during the war.
Miss You - Still in the Seventies, The Stones go Disco, (told you). Disco music was supposed to be happy though. Jagger sings this like a man who is too tired, seen too much. Strangely it makes me think of back in the mid eighties after an all night party with a high school girlfriend. Not in the city, in the suburbs. That cold early morning feeling you get when you have been up all night. You are tired but you don't feel it because you are excited to be with someone. You exchange some small words of affection at the end of her road, kiss briefly and walk home feeling like you own the world.
Anybody Seen My Baby? - One of the Stones least popular records but this song is good. Predictably it speaks to me of loss. For me it reminds me of endless hours in Airports in Asia looking at people as they walk past, scanning the faces of women to see if it was either The Stalker or later, The Lunatic. KLIA in Malaysia is an especially soulless airport where I would wander through the oversized and bizarrely empty walkways, Knowing it was a place that my ex girlfriends were likely to fly through on a regular basis, but really what are the chances of bumping into someone in an international hub airport?
Wild Horses - I don't know why I love this song.
So why did I call this post blank pages? Well, I have been staring at the expensive buttery pages of the journal the Stalker gave me trying to think of what to write. Its so odd, in front of a keyboard I can type away, but its all vapour. Having the beautiful fountain pen she gave me in one hand and the clear, expectant page in front of me seems so real, like you are committing to something. You can't just backspace so its like if you write something it better be worth it. Its so long since I have written anything by hand as well, I doubt my penmanship is up to much.
Friday, 8 January 2010
My Life In Drink
Due to an upcoming medical procedure and some unexpected support from some readers I have made the decision to try and control the booze. As a result and in relation to my recent fortieth birthday, I have decided to review my life with booze. I have other addictions. I used to gamble a lot, but because i do this for a living it never had any real control over me. I have slept with a lot of women, certainly in the hundreds but my emotional distance kept a lid on that. Booze is different I have an intimate relationship with drink that I don't really understand. It's always been there. On my birthday my parents related the story of the first time I got pissed, I was two years old. My mother had taken my older brother and myself to pick up my father from a voyage to Asia. As usual, my father did his handover and had a few drinks in the bar with the other officers some of whom were leaving, others staying. Then we went to have dinner in the officers dining room. As a senior officer my father and my mother sat on the larger central "Captains table" while the junior officers and other guests sat on the smaller satellite tables. Back in those days it was all silver service and the Chinese stewards brought the food to our tables. As I came in to my table no one noticed anything odd about me. they hadn't realized that after the engineers had given me a few capfulls of whiskey at the bar I had been swigging out of everyone's glasses and was completely smashed on Whiskey and Rum. I soon started attracting attention by hurling silverware around the dining room and laughing like a maniac. It was after I picked up a carving knife and threw it at the Captain that my mother excused herself and took me out of the dining room.
I was relatively normal after that, it was normal for us to have a small glass of wine with Sunday dinner and of course we were allowed a little more on New years Eve. Unlike my brothers however, I had a real taste for alcohol:
Ten to Fourteen. These years were characterized by me drinking on an occasional basis. Mostly beer. I had a serious interest in the music of the time, (nineteen eighty to eighty four) and got involved in a New Romantic band. But was a big Stones fan. Remember going to a few good concerts and starting to develop a real taste for Rum and Vodka. Key moment? Getting drunk on Four Bells Rum in Tema, Ghana.
Fourteen to Seventeen. Difficult times for the family. We really lost touch with each other physically and emotionally due to conditions completely out of our control. By Now I was drinking very regularly. Key Moment? Arriving back in the UK from a voyage on my fathers ship and being given some cash, finding a bedsit and a lot of Vodka to hole up in until we reconvened in South East London.
Seventeen to Twenty Three. The working years. My first job, quite rapid success at work, my first house purchase. The last time I drove a car after six car crashes, (I never drove while drunk - I was just really bad at driving). Heavy drinking years, mostly Vodka, beer and wine. Key moment? My first solo adventure in Asia. Getting arrested and beat up by the police in Laos whilst loaded on Vodka. First went out with the stalker during this period.
Twenty Three to Twenty Eight. Last Years in permanent employment. Then quit to go traveling to see what happened. Drinking very heavily by now. Had a relationship with the maddest woman ever. Key moment? Indonesia during the Asian crisis in Ninety Seven. Never having seen so much suffering before in my life. Drinking liter bottles of vodka the way a chain smoker smokes for weeks at a time. Bad times.
Twenty Eight to Thirty Three. Back in London try to make it back. Lost all my savings in Asia so took a few consultancy jobs in London and New York. Decent money, constant drinking. Lots of meaningless women. The Vodka and Tonic years. Key moment? My boss saying to me, you are the worst employee ever because I have no control over you. Everyone else I can sack and they are scared of that but you don't even need the job after I drank one bottle of vodka at lunch time.
Thirty Three to Thirty Seven. Living in Asia. Trading online and drinking non-stop. Relatively stable relationship with the Thai Princess, (not really a princess but from a high society family and living across from the palace). Got sick for the first time, bizarrely enough nothing to do with my drinking - some bone disease. Key moment? Leaving Bangkok with everything I owned, which I put in the overhead locker on my Emirates first class flight back to London, drinking everything I could lay my hands on because I knew I had only three hundred pounds to my name - The same amount I had back in nineteen eighty six when I left my family for the first time. Which is OK for a good lunch but not to rebuild your empire.
Thirty Seven to Forty. Read all about it here. The time back in London, aka the wilderness years, scraping by on a pittance. Struggling with drink. Health not too good and mood worse. reunited with the stalker which is either the best or worst thing that ever happened to me.
So that is it. Doesn't look like much when I consider the amount of money made and spent. the amount of women I have known and The places I have been. According to that widget thing on facebook I have been to 32% of the worlds countries. And yet judging by what I just wrote its almost as if I was never here.
I was relatively normal after that, it was normal for us to have a small glass of wine with Sunday dinner and of course we were allowed a little more on New years Eve. Unlike my brothers however, I had a real taste for alcohol:
Ten to Fourteen. These years were characterized by me drinking on an occasional basis. Mostly beer. I had a serious interest in the music of the time, (nineteen eighty to eighty four) and got involved in a New Romantic band. But was a big Stones fan. Remember going to a few good concerts and starting to develop a real taste for Rum and Vodka. Key moment? Getting drunk on Four Bells Rum in Tema, Ghana.
Fourteen to Seventeen. Difficult times for the family. We really lost touch with each other physically and emotionally due to conditions completely out of our control. By Now I was drinking very regularly. Key Moment? Arriving back in the UK from a voyage on my fathers ship and being given some cash, finding a bedsit and a lot of Vodka to hole up in until we reconvened in South East London.
Seventeen to Twenty Three. The working years. My first job, quite rapid success at work, my first house purchase. The last time I drove a car after six car crashes, (I never drove while drunk - I was just really bad at driving). Heavy drinking years, mostly Vodka, beer and wine. Key moment? My first solo adventure in Asia. Getting arrested and beat up by the police in Laos whilst loaded on Vodka. First went out with the stalker during this period.
Twenty Three to Twenty Eight. Last Years in permanent employment. Then quit to go traveling to see what happened. Drinking very heavily by now. Had a relationship with the maddest woman ever. Key moment? Indonesia during the Asian crisis in Ninety Seven. Never having seen so much suffering before in my life. Drinking liter bottles of vodka the way a chain smoker smokes for weeks at a time. Bad times.
Twenty Eight to Thirty Three. Back in London try to make it back. Lost all my savings in Asia so took a few consultancy jobs in London and New York. Decent money, constant drinking. Lots of meaningless women. The Vodka and Tonic years. Key moment? My boss saying to me, you are the worst employee ever because I have no control over you. Everyone else I can sack and they are scared of that but you don't even need the job after I drank one bottle of vodka at lunch time.
Thirty Three to Thirty Seven. Living in Asia. Trading online and drinking non-stop. Relatively stable relationship with the Thai Princess, (not really a princess but from a high society family and living across from the palace). Got sick for the first time, bizarrely enough nothing to do with my drinking - some bone disease. Key moment? Leaving Bangkok with everything I owned, which I put in the overhead locker on my Emirates first class flight back to London, drinking everything I could lay my hands on because I knew I had only three hundred pounds to my name - The same amount I had back in nineteen eighty six when I left my family for the first time. Which is OK for a good lunch but not to rebuild your empire.
Thirty Seven to Forty. Read all about it here. The time back in London, aka the wilderness years, scraping by on a pittance. Struggling with drink. Health not too good and mood worse. reunited with the stalker which is either the best or worst thing that ever happened to me.
So that is it. Doesn't look like much when I consider the amount of money made and spent. the amount of women I have known and The places I have been. According to that widget thing on facebook I have been to 32% of the worlds countries. And yet judging by what I just wrote its almost as if I was never here.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Birthday Blues
Yesterday's P&L: GBP 50.00
Yesterday's Booze: Hardly a thing! 2 glasses of Rioja, 2 pints of Stella Artois, 1 large Cognac
So that was my birthday, I am now forty and shall have to start paying attention to all that spam e-mail about erectile dysfunction and Canadian viagra. Is that middle aged, I guess so. Actually as I seem to be living in dog years I must be almost geriatric. I had dinner in some cheap place with the parents and surprise, surprise the stalker. She had checked herself out of hospital for a few hours to come and see me, where she was about to find out if she needed a kidney transplant, so it seemed tactless for me to drink my own weight in booze which is my usual form on my birthday. Turns out she doesn't need it after all, the occasional health problems such as kidney shutdown are just side effects of the experimental cancer treatment she had a few years back.
Naturally enough she ignored my protests and brought me a present, a rather beautiful calfskin bound antique journal. After the Montblanc pen she brought me I can see where this is going. She seems to see me as a sort of cross between the Hungarian character in The English Patient and Indiana Jones. When in fact I am more of a cross between Gordon Gekko and Elvis with a touch of Sir Digby Chicken Ceaser, (look it up on youtube), thrown in. I keep catching her staring at me which is rather unnerving. as she has the sort of unbreakable gaze that could subjugate a pitbull. Still she had a good time which was nice because when she got back in the cab to the hospital, I didn't know how serious her health issues would be.
Now that the twelfth day is over, that's it for the festive period. We just have miserable weather and no fun. When I was a child I found it odd that the decorations all came down on my birthday and felt like a bit of a killjoy, but then when we were in Spain or Italy and they had the massive celebrations for The Epiphany, I sort of really thought they were all celebrating my birthday.
Yesterday's Booze: Hardly a thing! 2 glasses of Rioja, 2 pints of Stella Artois, 1 large Cognac
So that was my birthday, I am now forty and shall have to start paying attention to all that spam e-mail about erectile dysfunction and Canadian viagra. Is that middle aged, I guess so. Actually as I seem to be living in dog years I must be almost geriatric. I had dinner in some cheap place with the parents and surprise, surprise the stalker. She had checked herself out of hospital for a few hours to come and see me, where she was about to find out if she needed a kidney transplant, so it seemed tactless for me to drink my own weight in booze which is my usual form on my birthday. Turns out she doesn't need it after all, the occasional health problems such as kidney shutdown are just side effects of the experimental cancer treatment she had a few years back.
Naturally enough she ignored my protests and brought me a present, a rather beautiful calfskin bound antique journal. After the Montblanc pen she brought me I can see where this is going. She seems to see me as a sort of cross between the Hungarian character in The English Patient and Indiana Jones. When in fact I am more of a cross between Gordon Gekko and Elvis with a touch of Sir Digby Chicken Ceaser, (look it up on youtube), thrown in. I keep catching her staring at me which is rather unnerving. as she has the sort of unbreakable gaze that could subjugate a pitbull. Still she had a good time which was nice because when she got back in the cab to the hospital, I didn't know how serious her health issues would be.
Now that the twelfth day is over, that's it for the festive period. We just have miserable weather and no fun. When I was a child I found it odd that the decorations all came down on my birthday and felt like a bit of a killjoy, but then when we were in Spain or Italy and they had the massive celebrations for The Epiphany, I sort of really thought they were all celebrating my birthday.
Monday, 4 January 2010
Last Chance La Luna
Today's P&L: GBP 210.00
Today's Booze: 8 pints of Cobra Lager, 2 bottles of Rioja, 3 Large Courvoisier
What a tedious day. The markets are all open but everyone seems reluctant to trade. I made some small money on a small GBP ten pounds per point long spread trade on the DAX30 through one of the UK's better known spread betting companies. Hopefully some volatility will return to the markets soon so I might get the chance to make some decent money.
Worst news I could have had is that my parents are paying a visit to gray old London tomorrow. I found this out through the stalker who has ingratiated herself. No doubt I will have to see them as it is my birthday on the sixth. That is something I can do without. It isn't that I have anything against my parents, on the contrary, I rather admire them. Its just that it has been a long time and I suspect that some ties that are broken cannot be fixed again. I often wonder what my parents make of me and my brothers. They are such tough people and have been through so much in their lives. I know they sacrificed so much for us but I for one have been nothing but trouble. I even infected my mother with some bad antibodies during birth as I have a rare blood group and she has the normal tap variety. Then growing up, it seems that whenever there was a problem, I was always the nexus - bad things just seem to gravitate towards me. To this day I remember whenever something bad happened my parents preparing themselves for the inevitable confession from me. A good Example was when I got the ship we were on in Nigeria impounded and the guy from the Office came aboard and said "some idiot was drinking and gambling with some insurgents on the ship last night". I sidled over to my father and said "I should tell you something" and my mother just shouted "I fucking knew it would be him".
That could be the story of my life "I fucking knew it would be him". Still my mothers a good sort, her motto regarding me would probably be forgiven not forgotten. As for the old man, I guess he just consoles himself with the idea that its every mans right to bury their son.
Today's Booze: 8 pints of Cobra Lager, 2 bottles of Rioja, 3 Large Courvoisier
What a tedious day. The markets are all open but everyone seems reluctant to trade. I made some small money on a small GBP ten pounds per point long spread trade on the DAX30 through one of the UK's better known spread betting companies. Hopefully some volatility will return to the markets soon so I might get the chance to make some decent money.
Worst news I could have had is that my parents are paying a visit to gray old London tomorrow. I found this out through the stalker who has ingratiated herself. No doubt I will have to see them as it is my birthday on the sixth. That is something I can do without. It isn't that I have anything against my parents, on the contrary, I rather admire them. Its just that it has been a long time and I suspect that some ties that are broken cannot be fixed again. I often wonder what my parents make of me and my brothers. They are such tough people and have been through so much in their lives. I know they sacrificed so much for us but I for one have been nothing but trouble. I even infected my mother with some bad antibodies during birth as I have a rare blood group and she has the normal tap variety. Then growing up, it seems that whenever there was a problem, I was always the nexus - bad things just seem to gravitate towards me. To this day I remember whenever something bad happened my parents preparing themselves for the inevitable confession from me. A good Example was when I got the ship we were on in Nigeria impounded and the guy from the Office came aboard and said "some idiot was drinking and gambling with some insurgents on the ship last night". I sidled over to my father and said "I should tell you something" and my mother just shouted "I fucking knew it would be him".
That could be the story of my life "I fucking knew it would be him". Still my mothers a good sort, her motto regarding me would probably be forgiven not forgotten. As for the old man, I guess he just consoles himself with the idea that its every mans right to bury their son.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
Aftermath
Today's P&L: Pesky weekends!
Today's Booze: So far 6 pints of Cobra larger and 6 pints of dry cider...
Well, made it through another New Year, what a result! The ex girlfriend, who I have come to regard as a somewhat welcome stalker moderated my behavior but I still managed to get loaded by judicious mixing of beverages and generous pouring techniques. I had to have sex with her of course, but I have come to realize there is no such thing as a free lunch.
Anyway, I don't think I offended anyone too much, so that's a good thing. One of the reasons I never attempt the old twelve step programs is that, to be honest, that step where you have to apologize or make amends to the people you have upset - well, I would never have the time and wouldn't know where to start. I don't think I am a bad person, just somewhat inconsiderate. Lots of descriptions of me have involved the words fucking idiot and morally reprehensible, my father usually just uses the term insane and at a family gathering I failed to attend, birthday party for me actually, my brother described me as a "nasty piece of work", which seemed to go down well. As a boyfriend I have been described as a cross between Billy Bob Thornton in Bad Santa and Tank in My Best Friends Girl. Of course in my mind I am Cary Grant in the Philadelphia Story. Its funny how your self image is often at odds with other peoples. On the bright side, the stalker has decided to take our relationship "one day at a time" which considering she was all for forcing me to marry her, I liken to going from Defcon 2 to Defcon 4. Everyone who knows her tells me that if I let her slip through my fingers I will be sorry for the rest of my life, like my eternal happiness depends upon her. The general consensus seems to be that I am such a liability to myself that I must grab this lifeline at all costs. Well I did okay before she came back on the scene and anyway surely if she is so keen to acquire me she must be even more fucked up than I am!
Today's Booze: So far 6 pints of Cobra larger and 6 pints of dry cider...
Well, made it through another New Year, what a result! The ex girlfriend, who I have come to regard as a somewhat welcome stalker moderated my behavior but I still managed to get loaded by judicious mixing of beverages and generous pouring techniques. I had to have sex with her of course, but I have come to realize there is no such thing as a free lunch.
Anyway, I don't think I offended anyone too much, so that's a good thing. One of the reasons I never attempt the old twelve step programs is that, to be honest, that step where you have to apologize or make amends to the people you have upset - well, I would never have the time and wouldn't know where to start. I don't think I am a bad person, just somewhat inconsiderate. Lots of descriptions of me have involved the words fucking idiot and morally reprehensible, my father usually just uses the term insane and at a family gathering I failed to attend, birthday party for me actually, my brother described me as a "nasty piece of work", which seemed to go down well. As a boyfriend I have been described as a cross between Billy Bob Thornton in Bad Santa and Tank in My Best Friends Girl. Of course in my mind I am Cary Grant in the Philadelphia Story. Its funny how your self image is often at odds with other peoples. On the bright side, the stalker has decided to take our relationship "one day at a time" which considering she was all for forcing me to marry her, I liken to going from Defcon 2 to Defcon 4. Everyone who knows her tells me that if I let her slip through my fingers I will be sorry for the rest of my life, like my eternal happiness depends upon her. The general consensus seems to be that I am such a liability to myself that I must grab this lifeline at all costs. Well I did okay before she came back on the scene and anyway surely if she is so keen to acquire me she must be even more fucked up than I am!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
