Gettin’ Down on Friday

It’s Friday night. I’m on the couch getting down, and not in a sexy or dancey way. Just emotionally.

I got down with salt and chilli tofu; disappointing. I am loyal to a chinese take-away which has an M20 postcode.


Anyway… being stuck to this couch like a sloth to a Cecropia is getting tiresome, and somewhat torturous as the view outside my window is the precise patch of road where I got done over by some madman fuck-loon in a car. The effort required to relocate my backside, followed by imminent boredom and resulting in a great need for distractions puts me off transporting myself and my tools. So I don’t. I’ve never been a great planner, and being plunged into a time in my life where the mere act of making a cup of tea results in an abrupt realisation that ‘you gotta drink that fucking tea in the fucking windowless kitchen you made it in motherfucker’ YES I’ll admit that I am struggling to adapt to this ‘planning ahead’ business when it affects every part of my miserable bastard day!

(Just to clarify, I know that it could be worse but just let me whine and have done with it!)

I will share with you, whoever you are, the things that are making me feel less than hopeful at this time, and you will read if you want to or grow so tedious with my self-pity that you seek out some other web page that feeds your need for recreation and who can blame you, certainly not I. Especially not after that ridiculously long and syntactically alarming sentence.

So Number one concern: It has been nearly a month since *the incident* took place, and the only time I have been contacted by the police was three days after and not a peep since. This is worrying as CCTV footage is deleted after 2 weeks typically, so fuck knows if they got their grubby mits on it! my eyes are opened, metaphorically, people! There is no such thing as justice: ‘Justice’ happens when people decide to work efficiently in their professions. Justice means something different to different people. It does not adhere to an ideal.

Number two: This is a bit embarrassing for a hardened northerner to admit- but- well, I thought more people would care MORE about me. Like, I have loads of friends and acquaintances and family that do care and it’s lovely but I suppose you doubt your importance to others when the fruit baskets and ‘get well soon’ cards don’t come flooding in. Yes I know, QQmoar.

Number three: Being anxiety ridden since I were but a young lass, WHAT IF I GET A BLOOD CLOT??? How do I know? How do YOU know?? I wish doctors and nurses would lay off the ‘possible side-effects’ shit because it don’t do us no good.

Finally, in at Number Four: Where is my aptitude for making the best of a bad situation, where is my capacity for genius?? I expected to be half-way through a novel by now, or to have had an epiphanous wave descend on me and- BOOM! I know what I will do with my life and it shall be good. But this hasn’t happened. Up to now I have with my precious free time read through the Chronicles of Narnia, watched Rupaul’s Drag race, Gogglebox and various curiosities on iplayer and played the Sims 2. Alas, earwax.

And so, though I have forgotten what intentions I had when I set out on this venture to craft yet another self-centred post that is bloggy (Yes I am painfully paranoid about how you perceive me, but not enough that it deters me), it is done and I see that it is… mediocre. However I feel slightly less lonely and pent-up than I did prior to this *mess* leaking out from my fingertips. So I suppose you have served your purpose (a big thanks to me, too) and that this is farewell, and let us never speak of this mess again. Adieu.


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