Some night time activities to keep me sane…

Here’s what I have so far for tonight, in no particular order:

a) read Kim Jong-Il’s entire life story on Wikipedia.
b) masturbate (not in any way related to a).
c) learn the rest of Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones on guitar.
d) eat 15 chocolate mini rolls.
e) endlessly scroll through my tumblr blog dashboard to figure out who keeps posting shit about One Direction.
f) masturbate (again, not in any way connected to a).
g) draw a picture of a chicken; colour it in the wrong colours.
h) write some Doctor Who fan fiction where Matt Smith travels back in his own time stream to play poker with David Tennant.
i) the same, but with strip poker.
j) run out into my small empty village looking for crimes to solve / sit in the park alone.
k) masturbate (not in any way related to either a or i).

Please feel free to make suggestions if you’d like to help me expand this list.

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Felix’s Productive Day

What I should do:

1. Organise my clothes.
2. Work on the book.
3. Tidy the flat.
4. Write up my next Impersonals article.
5. Do the washing up.
6. Look for a place to live back home.
7. Take the bins out.
8. Throw away the Christmas tree.
9. Post a late Christmas present to my brother.
10. Shower.

What I have done:

1. Eat an entire bag of cheese Doritos with an entire jar of salsa dip.

The Bored Identity

Working my second job at the bric-a-brac shop today. It’s quiet, and I’m pretty bored; so it got me thinking that it’s time like these that I wish I were to suddenly be ‘reactivated‘ as an undercover secret agent, unsure of who he is, but forced to live on the run, while simultaneously trying to bring down the clandestine organisation that made me what I am. I’d take my girlfriend with me, but she’d undoubtedly be killed before too long so as to give me a death to avenge. Soon after this, I’ll become something of a myth in the halls of this evil agency, and no one will be able to sleep at night, for fear that I’m lurking in the shadows, waiting to punish them for the genetic testing that they put me through. Oh yeah, I was also genetically tested on, by the way.

More likely however, is that I’ll sit here for another two hours, then cash up the tills and potter home. Oh well.

(Genius title by the way, huh?)

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These are some of the things I’ve been yelling at Becky as I try to understand the stupid artsy movie she’s making me watch…

Why can’t they just teleport IN FRONT of the guy they’re chasing!?

What, why is there this dream world where all the doors need to be opened with a drum? Why would the dream world be like this?

Why doesn’t the nightmare monster have a spare drum?

Why doesn’t he have a face? I can see his head! Why would it be that in this world, he didn’t have a face so he figured “I’ll just put a picture of someone else’s face over my face“. I can see his fucking head.

Is this being dubbed?

Wait, so none of this is even happening?

Who the fuck is this guy!?

Why did everything just turn green??

What the fuck is wrong with this guy’s nose?

They aren’t very good at stopping the monsters.

Now who the fuck is whispering? Who’s funeral is this? I really don’t think I can take this shit… Can I go to bed?

Why doesn’t he have any eyes?

Why do they keep calling this blind guy ‘the path finder’? Surely a blind guy would be the last person you’d pick to find you a path.

Are you honestly enjoying this?

Where are her parents?

This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Well don’t kick her. Why are you just kicking her? You’re holding a knife, just stab her, you pussy.

I wanted to watch a movie, not ‘pay witness’ to a half whispered, half screamed, soft piano, hand-held camera, visual metaphor.

Stop using sports analogies that you clearly aren’t comfortable with!

Did he honestly just say “dream ninjas“?

I think I’m having a heart attack.

What the hell is ‘A Good Day’?

I find it weird, the concept of ‘a good day’. A good day for me might, if I’m lucky, involve me leaving the house. I define a good day as a day where I don’t have to go to work, but I shower anyway. There are stock brokers and computer nerds and sports stars and so on, who can make millions on a good day. There are people who invent stuff, or save lives, or make movies and shit like that every day.

Like, the best day I’ve had recently, involved leaving the house on a non-work day for more than the time it takes to get a coke and a microwaveable meal from the corner shop down the road. That’s, action packed to me. I mean, my treat of the month, might be going out to dinner or something, and there are people who can do things I’d never dream of, and refer to it as a normal day.

I guess the point I’m making is firstly, how weird is it that what I can qualify as a good day, is so irrelevant when weighed against what someone else can achieve, that to them, my ‘good day’ might seem like a fucking nightmare; maybe I’ll learn something new on guitar, or I’ll write a blog or I’ll go for a swim. That’s literally the best I can think of; but with 24 hours in a day, that is a lot of mind-numbing nothing in between.

My second point however, is am I as bored with my non-special days as someone with an exciting life would be with theirs? Would they be as disappointed with their day if they only earned half a million, or didn’t have time for third base jump, or only shot a couple of scenes for their new movie; as I would be if I yet again, didn’t get out of bed until three in the afternoon and didn’t put clothes on until six; or would they be like, “Well that kinda sucked, but my life is still fucking awesome.”

Today’s Gruesome Adventure

Today, Becky is forcing me to wander around a garden centre with her, knowing that my insomnia was in such a bad patch that I’d been awake to watch the last 6 sunrises. Needless to say, I gave it ten minutes before I was left to wait in the boiling hot car like a neglected dog, left to die in lieu of wasting the last few minutes of a paid car park ticket.

She’ll pay… Don’t think she won’t pay…

She won’t really. I’m just being nasty for the purposes of humour. Don’t call the police.