Reality of a Realist

It seems I am not much interested in my own life. 

Life Path. Apparently there's a path?

Tap here to start composing...

We Shall Name Them... Thingies.

Yesterday I did two strange things. I shared this blog address on a little Facebook group, and I read through some of these old witterings.

It's strange to let people in long after the party is over. And it's strange to imagine these giants I live with were once smaller than me.

They all need new names. I shall now fritter more precious tick tocks trying to think of some.

I could stick with their names I use in my book. The Book!! Which turned out to be five books. Possibly six by the time I finish.

By the time I finish... There's a comedy. I am a comedy writer. Not a writer of comedy, but a point-at-able joke with an i-pad.

I want different names for here though. I am tempted to keep Chicken Boy, Dog Boy, Corn Snake Boy as ever he was. He would currently be Budgie Boy. Dirty little fuckers are budgies. Feathers and bird shit all over his room.

But Budgie Boy sounds kinda sweet. He's lovely, but he's a cheeky git. He needs something a bit more savoury. They all do. I can't call my 6 foot despairer of his family's fuckeries Little Rock Godling anymore. And he doesn't still fit in his skulls-on-fire t-shirt.

Minx would kill me for having such a lame name. I did come up with these stoopid titles in a hurry. Just tapped 'em out without much thought and left it at that. Thuglet really suited him though.

I need something fearsome for Minx, cutting for Budgie Boy, respectfully terrifying for LRG and more lollopy for Thuglet. I need to look down the barrel of my own smokin' gun and say what I see.

I see four astounding superbods. Four Horsepeeps of the Acrapolypse. (Hey our house got a name too.)

Ooh four... I could get all deck of cardsy, or directiony, or elemental, or Jungian... I'm just comin' up with Rock, Scissors, Paper, Middle Finger. You play those roolz too don't you?

Nah. I'll call 'em Betty, Fred, Barney and Wilma til I gets inspired. Fuck 'em.

Ping plus ping equals plus twos

'Not plus fours. These are plus twos. Plus fours are baggier.'

So now you know.

What else have I learned lately?

Lots. But I can't remember. Really interesting things too. What was I watching last night that made me go 'Ooh well I never!!'? Roving Blade even raised an eyebrow impressed by the new info. I bet he won't remember either.

It's like that these days. If I remember to put my shoes on before leaving the house it's a triumph. R Blade used to despair of my memory, until he misplaced his own. Now I get to tut back. Or smile all angelic like. Coz it's payback. And payback is way more fun when you pretend to be supportive but are almost imperceptively taking the piss. It lasts longer.

I love learning new things. It makes my little brain go ping. If only my little brain would put it somewhere accessible. But I don't have that kind of little brain.

I have the kind of little brain that will never recollect things on demand, only when someone else is speaking. Then I have to blurt out the spark before it darts behind the mental wardrobe for another seventeen years.

This is consider rude by many people. Fuck them. I'm not rude. Just optimistic that they will be as interested in my amazing brainflash as I am.

Most people are not. They think I should learn some manners. Or learn to regulate my impulsiveness. Or learn how to pretend to not be me. But they might learn summink interesting from my cheeky outburst. And so might I - even if I am relearning something old. I will now be relating it to something new and making a brand new ping for my optimistic little brain. Making connections. Ping ping ping.

I wish for many pings to come. I hope I never stop pinging. Maybe forgetting things isn't so bad - I get to recycle my pings. Recycling is good.

Watching a film I watched last year with no idea what happens in the end is brilliant. 'I've seen him in something...' 'Yeah he was in that funny thing as the boyfriend.' 'And she was in that singy one with the sequel... and that one where she was married to the boyfriend from thingie.' 'Oh yeah. Like this one.' 'Yeah this one.'

'It was this one wasn't it?'
'No...' 'Maybe'
'We've seen this haven't we?'
'Yeah.'
'Can you remember what happens?'
'No. I think we realise he's a dick.'
'Yeah he's definitely a dick.'
'I didn't know she was in it.'
'Me neither.'

'What was she in?'
'That singy one.'

We are both a cheap date. Watch an old film like it's new. Tell each other 'You've had your tea'. Compliment him on his fresh haircut, from last month. Dig out the old shiny leggings 'Ooh!!'

It's fab. Lots of pings. I'm always learning something new... ish. And I'll share it with you when you least expect it.

I'm sorry that I have completely forgotten what I was initially going to blog about. Never mind eh?

But next time you find yourself talking to a dapper old golfer you can ask, impressively, 'I say old boy, are those plus fours or plus twos?' And no doubt he will be delighted to enlighten you.

You're welcome.

Golf... I think I was going to say something about golf. Where has that thought gone then?

'In the hole!!!!!'

Ahh. That'll do.

Techno Dive

I am in bed, the cradle of creation. Poncey way of saying I can't sleep and am fucking about with an old email address key to the door of my old blog. Normally I would not feed this particular troll, but I am tired and brain-buzzy at the same time, therefore my decisions are compromised.

So testing testing 1, 2, 1, 2... Is this my portal to a past life? A perilous anomaly of the space-time continuum... ummm...

To anyone that knows me/knew me - just look at my single space after a full stop - wow cool we love you I love you too. It's almost a natural thing now. I've evolved... a bit. I haven't growd up though.

It's been years since my last successful posting of any bloggery due to technical wank and in that time I have learned little. But after a painful tech battle where I lost six years of work, eventually retrieved in a chaotic contaminated state, I was forced to accept the single space.

The universe has many ways to make you suffer for your own good. Although I have yet to realise the joy of a fucking street lamp right outside my bedroom window. No I can't do curtains. My bedroom is a conservatory and I'm not doing bloody curtains all round that. Bright orange glare in my eyeballs it is then.

One day we will move away from such a peopled state back to the brambles of hermit life. But for a few years yet, we are obliged to pretend to be modern humans for the sake of the social offspring.

Fuck me the streetlight just went out!! One minute to one am. That'll be council cuts. Or can I claim witchcraft? Either way - woohoo!! Except now I need a wee and won't find the toilet in the dark.

So here endeth the testing testing 1, 2, 1, 2... Thank fuck for that - always several 1, 2s too long. But maybe I shall return if the universe deems it educational.

Not that I am receptive to learning anyfink. Have a laugh universe!! Knock yerself out. However, I shall remain the tedious bastard I always was.

Did you miss me?