Thursday, May 26, 2016

Nothing really changes.

So much has changed since I started writing this blog. Not sure I remember exactly when that was but so much stuff since whenever that was! I mean I live somewhere different, I mean not a different country or a different city or a different part of the city really, but um, flat's a different one. Different relationship, been through a few, different job well I have a job which I don't think I did then or much of the time in between.

That's about it really. Ok so not much has changed. I'm still looking forward to that future time when I'm without the drudgerous worries of ordinary life and I'm actually doing something really cool where I, ok where I have money ok lots of money, relatively. When I actually go places and meet people and achieve things. Still have those to look forward to, all of those.

And things here seem to be the same. Exactly the same. Oh yeah there are some differences but really, exactly the same. People keep being people, dogs bark and trams get in your way. Most of all people can't stop fucking around with their flats! Everywhere I go every place I live, every year every month, all days of the week and times of the day (ok not the middle of the night but 7am areyou kidding me!!!) they're hammering and drilling and sanding and planning but mostly hammering and drilling and yelling in the hall but generally hammering, sometimes softly but just enough for you to notice and often heavily and drilling. Did I mention the drilling. At 7am. Drilling!!!

I need sleep.


Anonymous said...

I don't get it. Home-making, I mean. I'm guessing that's the correct term to describe the motivation of the drillers and hammerers?Anyway, I just don't get it. Like my father before me, I don't have a DIY bone in my body (though compared to my father I'm a veritable artisan) and I've spent a lot of my time avoiding things that in my estimation don't need fixing. Sure I can mend a fuse, fix a broken shelf, or change a lightbulb, and indeed, I fancy I'm a dab hand with a paint brush but... I react almost violently to the suggestion that "we repaint the walls", or, "paper the stairway", and anything else that isn't broken but is believed will enhance life if changed. I sometimes claim that, "there's no such thing as wasting time", but I have to concede, DIY comes damn close. As for 7am drillers I can only conclude they're either sadistically anti-social or they're those types unable to savour quiet restful time - "oh my fucking God, I'm awake, it's scarily silent and I need something to occupy myself... I know, I'll drill holes in the wall!"

Life does change. One moment you're minding your own business, bored, maybe even a little melancholy, when suddenly, from out of left-field you're hit with, "You have cancer, Mr Swift!". Pretty cool eh? Not something to take in one's stride, a veritable high-adrenalin experience, you think? Anyway, I have to confess, now I've come to terms with the fact, or as near as I'm going to, I find myself pining for those pre-diseased times, those ordinary days when the only thing eating away at me were the typical regrets - maybe I should have learned guitar and piano at age 3 and, I wonder what would have happened if I'd taken that left turn at Albuquerque? The usual stuff. Anyway...

Apologies if you think this a morbid comment, but I can offset the morbidity, by revealing the prognosis is good, just a little slicing here, maybe some snipping there, stitches, then in theory, all will hopefully be well. But still, I long for those times when I was depressed due to nothing at all!

Thanks for your time :)

Michelle said...

Well, that's s bit rough innit?

Sorry, not very good with this sort of serious stuff. First of all I apologize for my late reply, I have an excuse, it'as as pathetic one but my keyboard is all buggered up, the line down the left is somehow stuck to the next line over if that makes any sense, in any case I thought such a subject deserved as proper keyboard. Well the keyboard is still screwy I just have to delete as bunch of extraneous letters after every sentence. Small problems I know.

So um, I hope it is as small as deal as you say it is and it all goes well, or has gone well as it'as been as while since you wrote, and everything is totally wonderful and great after that. Maybe you even get around to playing the guitar and it's like, super. Yeah.