Tales From The Crypt - Friday 24th September 2021

A Friday, like Thursday, which was like Wednesday, which, in turn, was like Tuesday and, unusually, not completely unlike Monday this week.

Ain't got much to say, about the day, which was all work, and not enough play!

It's been brought to my attention that locally people have gone crazy and are panic buying fuel, not only unnecessarily filing their cars up, but also Jerry cans of fuel.  I realise that in part the panic has been caused by the imbecile that occupies No. 10 Downing Street, along with his gang of intellectual amoeba, stoked up by media reporting. I also realise that this problem has a longer history, exacerbated by the actions of successive Conservative governments, though most notably the current one, so if you voted for them, or for Brexit, then this is what you voted for. Enjoy! Nevertheless it doesn't help that people are fucking stupid and selfish.  There are people who do jobs that really matter, like carers, NHS workers, delivery drivers (remember them?) and so on, who actually need to drive to do the things that actually make life possible for people.  If you've stockpiled fuel or filled your car up, 'just in case', then be aware you are part of the problem. Selfish bastards. Rant over. For now. Probably.

For the first time in a helluva long time I find myself alone in the house tonight (technically I am not physically alone, but socially I am), which is something I need to get used to, on one level, but which I also don't enjoy.  Of the many things I have discovered about myself over the past five, six, or more years, is that I don't enjoy my own company. I need someone to talk to.  Preferably face to face. I can stand my own company when I've chosen to be alone, but not when it's my only option.  Left to its own devices, my mind can unravel any positive feeling in a matter of a few thoughts and then things get difficult. This is probably a bad answer, and it was accidental, I think, but the wine I drank while making dinner, in combination with Mirtazapine, plunged me into sleep while watching TV. Asleep, whatever images may beset me, I am safe from the worst excesses of my brain.  There is only one answer and I just have to make that happen. Somehow. Never give up, and all that bravado shit that is wont to whither and dissipate all too easily.

Rousing myself from fitful slumber, I managed to drag myself upstairs, despite the fog enveloping my brain cell and do all the things required to get bed and to sleep. In order to do it all again.

The Fatima Mansions / 'A Pack Of Lies' / 'Viva Dead Ponies'

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