Who’s to know what lies between them and the eternal boredom of death? Who’s to know wether dying is actually boring or not? However, what we do know is that the pathway leading down the alleyway of the afterlife, can be fraught with really shit times. Now when i say shit times, obviously they are the times we make ourselves, we make them good we make them bad and we can make them indifferent, and yes, shit. So upon the rocks of self loathing, I cast my ship (an ailing ship yes, but a ship that still has the semblance of a moral compass and the rags of retribution hanging from the masts of misfortune). As it dashes against the cliff of callousness, the wood of woe falls off in septic splinters, ready to become the driftwood of despair for some poor unfortunate sap who is eager to whittle a whistle of whimsicality, or some other useless piece of crap.
Poetic licence? self aggrandising? never mind, it all makes for a pretty descriptive first chapter doesn’t it? but wait, thats not the main crux of this missive. I haven’t quite got that far into my thoughts at the moment, I guess Im still struggling to get to grips with not being in me own pad, with me own kit, doing me own thing, But one good thing is though, I can disappear, and write some more of me book. Its taking a long time to write as its being a bit cagey in some areas, but I have the bones of something there (somewhere) and bits of the flesh to hang off them (in a kind of apocalyptic zombie fashion), though not as much as i would have liked to have had at this time. Anyway, to my present predicament. I find myself over 400 miles from my base camp, it took a little over seven hours in the saddle, £30 of fuel, and far too much coffee. Now considering the train would have taken the same amount of time and a fistful of shekels more, i think it was a good idea.
Unfortunately its now Saturday morning, mid morning, very poorly mid morning. the fact that i consumed enough Jack Daniels yesterday to fell a sequoia (I’m hoping thats how you spell it, if not, well it wont make that much difference with my spelling anyway). we went to see a band, in a small venue with loads of people in there to dance and have a great time. apparently the band were loud, i cant remember them or any of the music they played. in fact, its probably worth saying, i cant remember anything much of the venue. Or the night, Or the people,Or the alcohol. Was i spiked? well i put it down to the distillery that made the JD, they put a strange hallucinogenic substance in every bottle. So i sit and tap away at this keyboard (I cant believe I now have a bloody keyboard for an iPad mini) and the noise is becoming a little unsettling. the constant click of the consonants as they are pressed and released by my own wavering digits. I have to stop for a while as now my focus is zooming in and out and my head is pleading with me to close off the invading light of a devon morning!, mid morning, poorly mid morning. Farewell and Adieu fellow Earthicans.