Like David

What got me out of bed this morning was the intimation to play some English pool. I had four or so frames in the pub near where I live. It’s pronto becoming my local boozer. It’s only 50p a game, as opposed to a pound on the tables in most drinking establishments. It’s nice to have a pint or two when playing. Alcohol loosens up the arm a bit, to get that Rolls Royce cue action going. The librarian here has just mentioned that she almost nearly made it as a snooker referee. She said she knows Mark Selby and a lot of the other players on the circuit very well. As is with the last post, this too is proving tricky to eek out. Again I slept thru all day yesterday. Today once more I’m up and battling depression, staring the devil in the face and politely asking him to go away. I’m having to draw upon the inspiration behind this blog, which goes as far back as the American comedy drama series called Californication. That was about a man suffering from writer’s block who started blogging when he wasn’t drinking and womanising. It starred David Duchovny, the guy from the X-Files. Something about him writing at a workstation rubbed off on me. I wanted to write at a computer terminal myself, with no script, just like he did. He looked rather cool while doing so. Kinda busy and self-employed.

I wondered what he was writing about. No matter what happened in his life, he always had his blogging to fall back upon. I recall him doing it publicly, in internet cafes. What are other bloggers penning about out there? I have so much to say but so little balls to say it.  I wouldn’t know where to start with what is really going on in my mind. Maybe in the next coming weeks I’ll find the Jacob’s Cream Crackers (knackers) to say it. Until then, I’ll try to keep smiling. There is always someone worse off than yourself.

I remember watching a man being burned alive on some dodgy video tape I once owned. It was lent to me by some dude we called ‘The Cockney’. The Cockney, incidentally, fell down the stairs drunk and gashed his head in via the glass door at the bottom. This burning man anyway was sat down with his legs crossed, completely on fire all over, and he didn’t move a muscle. I don’t know why I’m thinking of him now, but he was a true warrior. You’d expect him to be running or thrashing about, wouldn’t you, but none of it. He was so still, he could have been meditating or summet. How can you not react when all up in flame? It was basically an execution video, I only watched it with my mates for a laugh, I wouldn’t watch anything like it now because it gives me nightmares. Similarly, there was a website called Toxic Junction I watched one evening. Full of people dying on camera. Stuff like that stays with you forever. Not very healthy for the old grey matter.

I hope and pray that all manifest evil slides over me like bath bubbles. I dream of being cleansed and holy like Christ. One time my room was full of demon and one of them I thought was looking like Jesus for kicks. He came closer to me than all the others. I was scared of my own shadow at the time, so I couldn’t comprehend the possibility that it might in fact be Christ. Now, in 20/20 hindsight, I believe that it was him. Jesus Christ feared nothing because of the light inside of him. I believe, that, throughout all my psychosis struggles, Christ walks with me. I’m going to do my very best from now on to adhere to that joyous fact. I’d like to thank Jill, my chaplain, for praying for me. And I’d like to thank Fiona, at the mental health drop in centre, for being nice to me.

 

Blogging Desire

It was the summer of 2007 that I decided I wanted to blog. I was watching Mulder from the X-Files (David Duchovny), star in Californication, a new series about a hip, womanising Los Angeles writer. X-Files was good, but I’d never been much of a fan, so when I looked at Duchovny, I didn’t see Mulder. That’s important, because familiar typecast actors have it all to do.

Take Danny Dyer. You might see him as a TV presenter who fronts those hard knock shows late at night, but I see him strictly as an actor. For a while, he was gold, proper talent, but for me, now, he’s done too many films in too short a space.

Some writers complain when their scripts get optioned and made into movies, because the end result doesn’t match their original vision. I’d be absolutely keen for someone to rework some of my material and do whatever the hell they liked with it – as long as it didn’t involve Ewan McGregor.

The best movies, the real gems, almost always feature unknown actors – faces you haven’t, at the time you watch them, seen before. A movie could come out tomorrow starring Russell Crowe, and it doesn’t matter how good it is, or what it’s called, because it’s just another Russell Crowe movie. You get me?
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Mulder’s good in Californication. He lives the life. He blogs. I could do that, I thought, because it’s just rambling with words, expressing yourself like in a diary. Of course, there’s blogging, and there’s blogging, just like there're movies, and there’re movies.

After just over a year doing it, there have been too few personal entries. I’ve been making an effort trying to keep me-time to a minimum, stressing over pictures and colour and presentation of external subject matter, when most people on the web are talking a load of shite. It’s time to start talking shite myself. And if you think I've been talking shite already, then you ain't seen nuthin' but nuthin' yet.

Pish. Tosh. Piffle.
Bollocks.