Sunday, 23 March 2008

Stupid Idiot

I am looking at a crossword. I bought a newspaper to enjoy with my breakfast while the sun streams in and lights up the room. Eggs benedict this morning. The crossword is not going well, the clues don't seem to make sense. 1 Across - Not always - someone thinks backwards? That's all blokes. It seems to make no sense at all. I have always thought that I am good with words but I cannot solve these problems. I am still looking at the clue four minutes later. I remember someone telling me that a good trick is to leave the crossword for a bit and come back to it later. I put the crossword down and try not to think about the clue for twenty minutes. I keep thinking about the clue. When I pick up the crossword again it doesn't really seem to have helped. I don''t feel like I have had much of a break. I stare at the crossword for one hour. My eyes hurt. The small black and white squares are imprinted on my vision. Wherever I look I see the crossword. I imagine the composer of the crossword. I think about his fat smug body. He is wearing glasses. He is a big nerd. He had no friends in school, only letters, words and black squares. His name is Tom. I hate Tom. I think about kicking his head until he gives me the answer. He wears square glasses like the squares on a crossword. His eyes look like the letter Q. I really hate him.

I am jealous of him. I wish I was as clever as him. 

Thursday, 13 March 2008

Banking Finance ISA Mortgage

I am running low on money. I feel a dangerous feeling - I am living on the edge. I have never checked my bank balance but I know that I am running low on money. I buy things in shops with my debit card and after I have put in my PIN I cross my fingers under the counter. This is creating a panic in me. Finally my card is declined. There are four days until pay day. If I don't have any money then I will probably die. I don't know what to do.

I put my DVDs in a bag and take them to the exchange place. They are worth two pounds each. I have four DVDS. That is eight pounds worth. I exchange them for the money. I am in the black. Eight pounds. This is the first time I have held physical money in my hands for over two years. I need to be careful with my money. My dad says "A fool and his money are easily parted."

I spend the money on 250g of expensive Bavarian ham.

It is the best ham I have ever eaten. It reminds my of a cold forest, a man with a feather in his cap and fluttering snowfall. It is delicious ham. It is succulent and full of earthy, evocative flavour. It is wonderfully silken and marbled with reams of fat. It is very fattening. It is so very very fattening.

I puke up my eight pounds. I am definitely going to die.

Sunday, 9 March 2008


I am remembering the nightmare of yesterday. Yesterday was our team bonding night at work. Our team needs to work on its integration- we are not close enough to each other - I do not feel at one with the rest of my colleagues. So we went to a karaoke bar. The man who selects the song was an ugly, angry man; ugly men are bald - they have a fixed stare; they look like they are smiling and frowning at the same time; ugly men hate me - they are aggresive men. I start to sing the song. I remember a time when I was younger. My father used to say that I have a lovely voice, he used to say do not sing into your hymn sheet, sing into the audience. I sing the song - it is "Freak Out" by chic. I am a disco diva. I have a spirit of deep and soulful funk inside of me. I am dancing like a dynamo. I am spinning out. I am in control of the room.

I have an erection,

I don't know why but I have an erection.

There is a lot of blood in my penis.

I ejaculate into my trousers.

Everyone knows what I have done.

I am banned from the night spot.

I hate myself.

That is the first time I have had an erection for four months.

Thursday, 6 March 2008


I lie sprawled on my bed. My body feels uncomfortable but I do not want to move it. My mind is trapped at the moment, I feel like I am in the centre of a venn diagram. My brain lies in the middle of a venn diagram. I am being hung drawn and quartered by the parts of the venn diagram. I have been socialising with my television. I have been watching a programme on the television about a group of people. When someone finishes a sentence I press the mute button. I then reply to them. After my reply I unmute the television. This is a conversation. I have been doing this for two hours. While I do it I have been crushing garlic. I have been rubbing the crushed garlic into my chest. This is an ancient remedy for a cold. The garlic is seriously hurting my skin - perhaps in the olden days people had thicker skin. I smell terrible. I think that I am wretched, I am fairly sure that you could definately call me a wretch. I think the garlic is giving me hallucinations. I am on a television panel comedy show. It is my turn to speak. Clement Freud is sardonic he is too sardonic for me. I am not sarcastic enough I laugh too easily there is no bite to my humour. The studio audience is looking at me with distaste. I feel like they might want to eat me. I see some one in the audience wink at me. It is Anthony Worrall Thompson. He holds up a card with a red pepper printed on it. He is having sex with Gok Wan. He is smacking Gok Wan on the bum with the card. Gok wan is smiling a lovely smile.

I think about my life and why this is happening. I don't know why this is happening.

Tuesday, 4 March 2008


I can see a road in front of me or a pavement. At the end of the road is a bakery which I want to get to. I feel as though I can't move though as I want to be powerfully sick. There is hot thick acid inside my gut. It feels like it is bubbling. The taste at the back of my throat is like rancid cottage cheese with pineapple. There are many colours to the throaty wash of vomit that I can feel inside me. Bread would be dissolved by the acid, there is no point in getting there. I crumple to the ground. On the ground my stomach feels even more full of frothy sickly congestant. My guts are a mesh of fibrous biliant. My mind is awash with a tide of stinking illness, putrid and pouring pulses of puke. Massive chunks of scalding vomit are pushing their horrific exit through my now infected throat and mouth. A pillar of shining vomit erupts powerfully from me, pushing me backward and caking the pavement with my organic filth.