Did my weekly booze free last night. Lately it’s been getting easier but for some reason last night was a bumpy ride. I think it was brought on by stultifying boredom with the Damocles anticipation that Cunt would kick off downstairs, it didn’t make for a relaxed environment.
I had a go on Lara, made and ate a pasta bake which was the highlight of the evening to be honest, watched some TV and read in bed. I tried to do some writing but I couldn’t, not through lack of content, just desire. Last night was the equivalent of booting an empty coke can down an alley.
I had some extraordinary dreams though. In the past few months I’ve been starting to remember my dreams again, this probably has a lot top do with the general cutting back of the pop. Last night featured Jenny Agutter as she was in an American Werewolf in London playing the foreperson of the refurbishment of Wembley arena and Pete Doherty who was my best mate, we even kissed at one point (?) until he left me to start work as a recovery driver for the AA. The bastard, we could’ve made it Pete.
So here I am in the office, again. My cycle into work was fraught and awful, it’s July and it feels like fucking February, the wind made progress slow and boring and I’m on the brink of just using my black bitch again, fuck exercise.
The office is really getting on my tits, a couple of blondes have started here and the berk behind me has been flirting with them since their tiny thongs hit the chairs. It’s making my skin crawl, he has this fucking awful Star Trek fan laugh and delusions of luvviness which means formless ‘anecdotes’ and ‘knowing’ quips that are neither knowing or amusing in any way. These traits are sandwiched between is a deeply insecure and sad character who is perpetually being unkind to others behind their backs, at times he’s downright nasty, yet presents himself as this sweet old thing who would do anything for anyone. It makes me sick.
I think I need some time off, short Piqued today, I can’t be fucked.