3:33

 

Howdy blog reader, I hope that this reaches you well. I’ve had a pagan moment this morning. Some barmaid in The Looking Glass (Wetherspoons), had a tattoo on her arm. It was three numbers: 3:33. I politely asked her what they represented. She went into some pagan history spiel and said it meant more sense than Christianity. She said that she sees the numbers everywhere. I will give her this though: She mentioned it has something to do with Guardian Angels. “That’s brilliant,” I said to her, and I meant it. I have them too, and it seems like I’m not the only one. I sat down with my pint from her and started thinking about the number 1408. I see that all the time. Even on the oven readout! It’s from the movie 1408 (2007), starring John Cusack and based on a Stephen King short story. After you’ve watched the film you might understand, as the number plays on your mind. 2 30 is another number, although not so serious, because it’s a Chinese joke – “tooth hurty.” The Chinese Dentist! I got £2.30 as change the other day. Ha! Remarkable.

I pondered, sipping my pint, looking at this strange barmaid. Then I looked at my watch. It was 9.33.33am. Her number was infecting my mind already, after two minutes knowledge of it! Wow. I went up and told her. She smirked it away. Have you got an exclusive number in your mind, which always appears randomly? My favourite number has always been the number seven, the date of my birth and the date of my favourite teacher’s birth. I also like seventy seven, but Anders Brievik brought disgrace to it by killing 77 people in Norway. I couldn’t believe he did that to my number. I’d batter him for it. That black guy in England brought disgrace to black people when he killed that army lad with a machete, I’m sorry but I can’t find his name, the guy with bloody hands on the news. I believe they ran him over first in a car, then tried to chop his head or something. Disgraceful.

I went for a curry last night. After loads and loads of “ring-sting”, I’ve decided never to eat spicy food again. It’s a shame, because I find it particularly tasty. Madras, Chilli, Jalapenos…yum. But no more. My bottom wants to sue my mouth. Easy going down…painful coming out. I can hardly walk with that burn down below, after indulging in the spice. Seriously, it puts me out of action. I had a Lamb Korma instead, the coconut yellow mild one. And 4 pints of beer costing over a fiver each. Worth every penny though, as I was pregabbed up (Pregbalin), and in a lovely mood, adoring other customers as God’s Children, especially the Hong Kong contingent nestled in a crowdy corner. I sat in the beer garden with my pint of Cobra and listened to other people’s conversations, listened to the birds also, and stared at a woman whose dress revealed her sexy back. I got a little trigger to do porn and coke again, but resisted. I want to start my own psychosis group sometime, that’s my realistic dream. And oh yeah, I’ve just got a sponsor. A sponsor is someone in the fellowship who leads you through the 12 Steps. His name is Dave and he’s about my age, except he’s got years of clean time. My mate Andy, a musician, calls it clear time. My favourite word is release. Release from the evil grasp of porn and drugs. Freedom, from upon high! I could not have done it without him. Praise the Lord! I say. Peace beyond you!