skip this one

You'd think in a city the size of London, running into someone I know would be relatively unlikely.

First Mike, now my sister. Perhaps I was asking for it, going to the pub three times in one week. I suppose she hits them all eventually. Maybe she has a rota drawn up.

I may be a bit drunk at the moment as well.

new life

Haven't been "utilizing" this blog "to its fullest extent" apparently. I rather thought the point of therapy was to speak privately with someone you, at least in theory, trust. Granted, writing this is currently the same as talking to myself (and I do, in theory, trust myself).

Dr E: Yes, John. But you don't actually talk to me. Perhaps you'll feel more comfortable with the anonymity granted by the internet.

Except my full name's bang in the URL of this thing, isn't it? Well. And whose fault is that, as my mum would say.

All right. Everyone seems quite desperate to get me to express my feelings, so here we go.

I feel bored, if you want to know.

No, I wouldn't want to go back. I'm no use to anyone like this.

Sorry about that last post. If anyone's reading this. Mike told me you can look at the stats and find that out, but I think I prefer ignorance in this. Ignorance and alcohol. But those of us with alcoholic relatives tend to have rules and one of mine is:

1. Thou shalt not drink alone.

So off the pub I go. Maybe there'll be a match on.




Maybe I'll just go to bed.

Fucking, fucking, fucking leg.

good old mike

I met an old friend today, Mike Stamford.

"I got fat."

"I got shot."

There you go. Fifteen years summed up in six words.

I mentioned needing a flatmate. Maybe he'll come up with something. Mike knows everyone. Haven't got much hope though. Who'd want to share a flat with me? (Rhetorical question. No strange offers, please.)

(Try me next month.)

doctor's orders

I'm supposed to write about my life, about the things that happen to me, day to day things. That's what she said. Dr E, let's call her, for the sake of a thin veil of privacy. Hers or mine.

I don't know why I'm concerned; no one's going to read this anyway. I wouldn't, if I weren't me. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, welcome to the world's most boring blog.