Pynchon

Honesty is important, yes? Yes. I think it is.

The fact is that since my first blog was found by somebody that I work with in October 2005, and I had to quickly reinvent myself, this new blog has not been nearly as truthful, or as interesting, or as blunt. True, I still have my moments, but to me at least they are increasing few and far between. I think that I have been unconsciously (or is that consciously?) holding back in case somebody that I know has manages to track me down and spills the beans.

Ah... Know what I think, now? Life's too short. Fuck 'em. If they don't like what I have to say, then they can brace me on it.

Names will still be changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. I will not paint myself in a good light. I will try to be honest and I will appreciate honest comments. I will not delete any comments except obvious spam. If you think that I am a cunt, fair enough and good luck to you. I can be good and I can be bad.

I said that things have been building up and on Sunday night I cracked. Very true. The following might ramble a bit; I've not planned what I'm going to write, but I want to get it out of the way.

I love Lorraine with all of my heart. I really do. She was my first girlfriend. I hope that she will be my last. I lost my virginity to her at the age of 32. I do regret that it took so long to lose my virginity, but I was a cripplingly shy boy, teenager and young man, and I didn't have the confidence to ask anybody out. My sex education was through pornography and I think that that has caused problems because my expectations maybe do not match Lorraine's.

Lorraine and I have not had penetrative sex since Christmas Day 2005. There has been the odd bit of masturbation by me with her participating, but that has been the extent of it. She does not like me to touch her except for the most innocent cuddle. I have asked, cajoled, bought presents, told her that she is beautiful (she is beautiful), but it makes no difference. I have asked bluntly what I can do to make things the way that they were (we once had a fantastic carnal life), but all she says are variations on

"This relationship has got more wrong with it than the fact that you are not getting any sex. I won't be your sex object or your tit wank fantasy. I am a person."

Yes, she is a person. She is a very smart person. I love that person, as infuriating as she can be. What's wrong with a boyfriend or a girlfriend being a sex object, so long as that is not all they are. As for a tit wank fantasy? Yes, I enjoyed that very much. Rude, dirty and pornographic. It made me feel like a porn star. It was never all of our sex life.

I'm not aware that I have changed very much in the last couple of years, but I probably have. Lorraine has changed a hell of a lot. The hysterectomy changed her, but I was ready for that. We did have a limited sex life after that operation. Lorraine now has a lot more responsibility in her job. She works longer hours. She sees a future in management. She has prospects. She is becoming a winner. I am becoming a loser. Lorraine is always tired. It's a real problem.

Can sex being withdrawn drive a partner mad? I think that it can. I think that I have gone a little bit mad. It's quite pathetic, really, but it's how I feel.

Vicky Sunshine. What if's and might have beens and empty nothingness.

I have never believed in the concept of the Winter Blues. Not really. There is enough evidence to prove that it is real, but it has never been anything I have considered very much. I remember that towards the end of last year Graham wrote very eloquently about depression and the way that Autumn/Winter affected him. Not for me. I find the Autumn/Winter seasons quite comforting. The nights draw in. The curtains get closed earlier. The big coats come out. The heating gets switched on. The good stuff appears on the TV. When I was a little boy I loved Autumn/Winter time.

I've been thinking about my Dad a lot. I miss my Dad. He has been gone since 13th August 1978. He was 43. Massive heart attack. He died in my arms. I don't think that he would have recognised me, the way that I am now. I am probably everything that he would have despised. On January 11th 2007 I will be, to the day, exactly the same age that my Dad was when he died. I have tried not to think about it, but it is in the back of my mind all the time. I shouldn't be older than him. No, that's not right.

I never really cared much about anything except making my Dad proud of me. I think that I have floundered ever since he died.

The house is a mess. I have no inclination to do anything about it. Weirdly enough, Lorraine's sister's visit made us do a massive tidyup and it now looks fine. I freak out when the thought of decorating comes up. I hate the smell and the noise and the disruption. It upsets me.

I have (low level?) mental problems. I am more like Sister 2 than I would like to think I am. The TV has to be turned to the right channel before it is turned off. It upsets me to turn the TV off when it is on the wrong channel. (The right channel? ITV1, of course.) I compulsively check water taps. I compulsively check the ceilings of every room for water leaks (4 years ago we had a water leak in the kitchen ceiling. The obsession started from there. Last year we had a leak in the bedroom ceiling. That sealed it.) I don't like leaks. There are other things. I've mentioned them before. I function. I have never been that bad that I cannot leave the house.

My job. Ah... My job. I am bored beyond belief every day. I talk drivel all day. I hate a good half of the people that I work with. Lazy, stupid, awful people. Managers who cannot supervise the distribution of paperclips, programmers with only a passing knowledge of structure or logic, testers who would have difficulty in turning on a light switch, the same mistakes being made over and over again. Time servers. Clock watchers. Fuckers. Fuckers. Fuckers. (Good news today, by the way. One of the most useless cunts has just handed in her notice and is going to work for one of our rivals. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Fucking scum sucker.)

I should leave, except that I feel that cannot do anything else. I feel like I am a stinky, piece of awful crap. I suppose that I fit into that awful, stinky piece of crap Company perfectly well, because I am too lazy and I cannot be bothered. Lorraine is my Boss and she knows perfectly well how I feel. If I were to leave, it would not suit her anyway, because she would have to replace me and that would be difficult.

I joined my first Company in 1982 as a junior Computer Operator. I was on the massive salary of 3000 quid a year. I was rich, man! A couple of months after joining the Company, the senior lecturer at Bournville College contacted me about a University course that I could apply for. I thought about it and chose to stay in the job. I chose the money. I have never chosen anything but the money since. For a long time I have felt that that was the worst mistake of my life.

In 1978 I was a very promising kid. One day my English teacher took me to one side and told me that I was the cleverest kid in the school and that I should be thinking seriously about college and then university. Obviously I wasn't the cleverest kid in the school, and it all fell apart anyway in August of that year when my Dad died. I sometimes wonder what happened to that kid. He was good and he was enthusiastic and he had a future.

I did go to College a couple of years later to do a Computer course. I have been involved in Computers ever since.

I have no real life friends. Not really bothered about having any, if I'm honest. Friends get in the way. You have to spend time with them and they take up time that you could spend going to the cinema or watching TV or going to gigs. In the last 6 years I have met more people over the Internet that I consider to be real friends than I have met in the previous 37 years in real life. It's a good job that I am not rich because my name would probably be Howard Hughes.

I sometimes think that I have missed out not socialising with people. (See the age at which I lost my virginity.)

Got all that? All of the above has been going around in my head over and over again, over the past few weeks. I have felt like I had a steel band around my head that was getting tighter and tighter.

I feel better now. I exploded on Sunday night. I punched the wall. I started tearing up old magazines and comics (some real collectables) because I couldn't stand the mess any more. Lorraine manhandled me out of the room. She's a very strong girl. She held me very tight and said that she loved me.

Changes will come. I will not have a nervous breakdown. Bollocks to that.

Take a deep breath. Carry on.

Changes next year or next week or tomorrow. Oh, yes.

Normal service will resume tomorrow. I will be on my own. Lorraine will be away for a couple of days on work business. I'm dreading being on my own, but I will cope. That's what life is all about, isn't it? Coping.

Goodnight. You're my friends and I love you. I really mean that.