It has just become very obvious...

...that I'm probably going to disappear off the radar in a few years.

I have great friendships with a lot of you folks out there, most of whom will never read this and remain blissfully unaware of this revelation. I treasure silly passing remarks, odd grins from across the street and conversations which have lasted deep into the small hours of many dreary mornings this country has had to offer in the past.

It's all stopping though, of course.

I'm rubbish at keep up to speed with any of you in any way. I rarely show my face for big evenings out on the town; I am drawn to a different lifestyle, I fear - a lifestyle which aspires to peaceful villages where residents spend their days wandering about playing instruments and smiling and drinking tea and feeling perfectly happy with the state of things.

What's more, my inevitable career path leads me far away from the big cities and noise many of you enjoy so much. I'll end up in a cottage somewhere in the country, drawing the occasional thing for some newly developed shop that requires it, then strolling off to work at a post office until the day is through. It will be time spent alone, too, by the looks of things.

I have tried, mark you - I have twisted myself to fit into many frames and stories, but in actuality, it is never genuine; my presence is not intrinsic to the memory, simply moderately interesting excess used as kindling for another anecdote around the cheese and biscuits.

Yes, I will disappear. Many of you will forget me, some of you may have a flicker of interest in where I've gone, I might even be lucky enough to hear that one or two of you experienced genuine sadness with the passing of time. However, all in all, I will still fade away. I have loved many of you, but I can't keep pretending this lifestyle is my own.


These are, of course, simply words, and they will be passed over by tired eyes, and silently disregarded by busy minds. They'll probably be void by tomorrow anyway.



'tonm. xx



Book of the Moment: Still Stephen Fry's Autobiography.

Song of the Moment: "Samson" by Regina Spektor

Whiskey and Coke tonight...

...and some seriously loud music in my headphones. I actually detest living in this house.

I can deal with the conflicts between myself and those around me. I can deal with how small this place is. I can just about deal with the severe lack of anything remotely resembling a garden. All that will stand with me as long as it needs to. What get me are the residents of Fratton.

My neighbours, for example, have several, very loud dogs. I hate dogs as it is, but these foul creatures will wail and howl at any human or movement within a 1 mile proximity of their house, and they will keep going until either the termagant of a mother screams at them like a banshee or they receive the necessary blood sacrifice from whatever poor, unfortunate soul happens to be anywhere near them at that precise moment.

The family are loud, associate with other loud people and make no bones about it - They bitch and whine at each other until the sun sets, by which time they have all presumably returned to their respective bomb shelters and injected more adrenaline into their veins so that, when the morning creeps round, they have absolutely no problem leaping from the sheets to fire off more expletives at one and other, an event which is louder even than the disgracefully bad choice of music shamelessly blasted through the speakers of the stereo of the teenage daughter on the other side of my wall.

I don't know, perhaps i'm having a bad evening? Well, i most certainly am having a bad evening, lets not beat about the bush... perhaps i'm over exaggerating? Maybe they're all just tormented philosophers, desperately trying to seek new plains of understanding by battling out every day over questions above and beyond my own thought process...


No. That simply doesn't work. Nietzsche never bellowed "Gimme your eye-liner or I'll smash your face in" from the pages of Thus Spake Zaratrustra...

'tonm. xx




Book of the Moment: Still Stephen Fry's autobiography - See yesterday's entry.

Song of the Moment: "Butterfly Caught" by Massive Attack

The deep breath inwards...

... keeps me grinning, even after 4 hours of sleep and all the shrouds of darkness and sadness and idiocy all around everything. I know that there is potential in everything an everyone, and it makes me smile like a fool.

That's not to say it kills all of he problems - they sit there, stubborn, moving for no-one, and we have to tiptoe around them and clamber over the tops of their massive frames. Somewhere though, amongst all this, there is a feeling of positivity - An aura of inexorable change up ahead. Emanating from deep within the canyons under the problems is the next step, slowly creeping out, ready to shake this situation to pieces and set my family on a new course.

I just need God to keep my Mum upright. All of us are suffering, but her most. She sees some days through permanent darkness, never stopping to relax, always working to keep on top of all of the responsibilities and fears she's now lumped with. She's so string, but she certainly doest feel it. She's battered but not beaten, and I need her to feel encouraged until the change comes.

The loneliness is the worst part, easily. It kills us all. I'm one to suffer it quite badly, but I inherited that want for contact with people from Mum. She aspires only to share life with those around her, and now the nights are impossible.

I love her, and I want to be there for her all the time, but it isn't the same.



'tonm. xx

Book of the Moment: Anything with beauty in its words, I suppose.

Song of the Moment: "Blind" by Reana