Saturday, 23rd February 2019.
The boy is home. When I say home, he was for a minute then, immediately, went out to see some friends. Pfft.
I’m not bothered really. I’m vaguely drunk and intend on getting progressively more drunk until I fall down.
The beauty of Saturdays?
My intended plan was to do some recording, get my Gtech vacuum off Carter and not a lot else.
So far I’ve got the vacuum and vacuumed a little. Now I’m laying down and drinking Amstel. The sun is shining through the balcony door in that way that makes me feel sleepy.
Last night I managed to catch up on Walking Dead and I also watched the first episode of the new Sky production, Curfew.
I’m achieving goals. Pointless goals but nevertheless, goals.
I’ve found myself distracted. I found a copy of Where The Buffalo Roam on my PC.
People always think Johnny Depp was the only person to do HST but Bill Murray done it first and is equal in every way.
With dinner done and Louis home again, my dad has locked down the house earlier than usual. Don’t worry. We aren’t captives. We have our own keys. I was just giving you an idea of what it’s like to be 80 years old. It’s all about the dead bolts!
Louis wanted to watch some South Park so I thought I’d read. Can you guess what I’m reading from this:
All I’ll tell you is, it’s a Fucky essential read for life accomplishment………or waging war.
A small observation. Why is it, whenever I venture out of my room it smells like my dad is boiling cabbage?
Is it a living with old people thing? Or does he wait until I’ve retired to my room and then start boiling cabbage?
You would think investigation is required. I can’t be arsed to walk downstairs. I’ll leave the olds to their insanity. Maybe it’s a question saved for their deathbeds.
Sunday, 24th February 2019.
I’m drinking coffee and listening to BBC6 on the balcony. I woke up about seven thirty but decided to go back to sleep again. I was re-awoken by my dad dragging the bed down the stairs. I emerged from my pit to find he had moved it all.
I see where I get it from now. The whole, “if a job needs doing… ” thing. Oh well. I’m sure there will be some sort of comment relating to it later.
Amusingly, he said nothing. We had dinner. End of.
On the upside, he went to see my mother. She showed him around the whole hospital. Aided by her Zimmer frame. She is on the mend.
I vacuumed the whole house. I cleaned the bathroom, my room, made Louis do his room.
Then I fixed my dad’s laptop.
I messed around with some music but by this point I was too drunk to achieve anything.
At this point, I decided I should watch Nacho Libre.
People like me are a dying breed. The breed deserves to die. Too long, have we wandered the earth. Sowing our rotten seed of righteousness.
I’m not saying our way is wrong. It’s just over. The world wants a different spice. A different flavour.
Our way will come again, but not until the false, puritan righteousness has passed. The idea that regularity is special. To falsify, is the template to follow.
When did all I believe in disappear?
Difference is beauty.