Diary Of Some Sort Of Life #8

Thursday, 23rd February, 2017

07.18

Lurching forward. They definitely broke the mould when they made my brain. Just carry on Mark! It’s all going in a direction. Which direction? I’ve no Fucking clue. Another day wearing the mask. 

Split personality? Damn right.

I want to kill you and love you, in equal measure.


09.00

The calm before the storm. I think the storm has already started. I hope it lasts the day. Then I Can revel in my solitude tonight. Get to watch it create ripples in the river surface. Inspiration is always in the dark corners. Standing, gently masked, by the shadows. So you have to step inside to see it.

10.17

Slowly, quietly. Guilty slumber awaits.Awaiting Doris. Are you coming or what? Pressure release. According to to the Oracle(Google):

Not. How disappointing.

11.52

Lunch done. I decided to have a little browse. I was having a look at Moleskine pens and found this. 


Anyone who knows me, will know about my unhealthy obsession with Moleskines. I’ll be getting that. Defo!!

What a boring day though. Yawn. 

Hhmmm. It’s not really how I’m feeling. I enjoy the term,”putting a brave face on it”.

13.25

The afternoon is slowly dripping away. Caustic humour and surreal, mental torture. Blessed things. 

“When I arose and saw the dawn,

   I sighed for thee,

   When light rode high, and the dew    was gone,

   And noon lay heavy, on flower and    tree,

   And the weary day turned to his          rest

   Lingering like an unloved guest,

   I sighed for thee.”

   Shelley.

Exactly, what I thought at the time.

14.55

Yarp. Home time for us lucky few. I’ve had quite enough of today. I’ve jumped too many mental pitfalls. I’ve survived unscathed, so far. Only the night to get through.

Im gonna have a couple of Guinness I think.  See how that works. I could definitely do with rounding off some of the jagged edges before entering my pit. Read my book for half an hour. Or, as we say at work, do some ascertaining about stuff innit. 

15.42

Can’t shake the feeling of dread though. I think I should own a pub.

I’d be great at it. Of course, it would kill me but what doesn’t? Only things not worth doing, right?

16.58

It has to be walked. Parka wrapped tight, head down low. 

Taste it. Beautiful. Painful. Reluctant longing, for a thing, I can’t quite have. But I can taste it. Always taste it. On my lips. In my tears and laughter.

17.59

Come on you bastard! Give us some!

I’m desperately trying to think of something to ease the evening. Come on, brain! Come on! 

18.48

Ps4 it is then. 

I’m getting kinda bored of it. The achievement of so little, yet the vast wasting of time.

20.16

Being told you’re embarrassing by someone, you wanted to love, is hard. In fact, near on impossible to recover from. They never tell a story that people aren’t interested in, do they? Oblivious to the looks of disbelief. Older statesmen stories. 

21.18

Yet again, it’s time to give up on the day. Friday tomorrow. At the very least, I don’t have to think about getting up. 

Leave a Comment. You might win a Prize!?