Sunday, November 04, 2007
I am finding it very hard to be bothered. I write about writing about things, which is hardly inspiring at all, now is it?
I know what is happening. I am drifting into a depressive state. It has happened before. Maybe it is is part of the Pynchon family genetic makeup. Some of you know about my Mom's problems in the past and about Sister 2's continuing problems. My Mom told me recently that my Brother is also having problems. She wants me to have a word with him because she thinks that I will make a difference. I doubt it. My Brother told my Mom that lately I don't have anything to do with him. I don't know where he got that from. I love my Brother with all of my heart.
Late last week I asked Lorraine if she wanted to go to bed with me. She said No. I asked when she might want to go to bed with me. She said that she didn't know. Weeks go by now without me asking because I always know the answer and why cause tension by asking? I find it more and more difficult to raise the subject. Or do I find it less and less of a problem?
I watch couples in the street. I watch the hand holding and the laughter and the cuddles and I want to tell them to make the most of it, because it will end sooner or later. Maybe this happens to everybody. Indifferent women and frustrated men. I don't know. Maybe I am an aberration? Maybe I am the one not behaving the way a 44 year old should behave? Maybe I should have known to expect this?
I know what is happening. I am drifting into a depressive state. It has happened before. Maybe it is is part of the Pynchon family genetic makeup. Some of you know about my Mom's problems in the past and about Sister 2's continuing problems. My Mom told me recently that my Brother is also having problems. She wants me to have a word with him because she thinks that I will make a difference. I doubt it. My Brother told my Mom that lately I don't have anything to do with him. I don't know where he got that from. I love my Brother with all of my heart.
Late last week I asked Lorraine if she wanted to go to bed with me. She said No. I asked when she might want to go to bed with me. She said that she didn't know. Weeks go by now without me asking because I always know the answer and why cause tension by asking? I find it more and more difficult to raise the subject. Or do I find it less and less of a problem?
I watch couples in the street. I watch the hand holding and the laughter and the cuddles and I want to tell them to make the most of it, because it will end sooner or later. Maybe this happens to everybody. Indifferent women and frustrated men. I don't know. Maybe I am an aberration? Maybe I am the one not behaving the way a 44 year old should behave? Maybe I should have known to expect this?
Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex
Friday, July 20, 2007
I spoke to Lorraine last night. She is coming home on Sunday. Lorraine is upset and annoyed because the hospital so far have refused to release the body of her Aunt. I'm not sure exactly why and Lorraine was not in a mood to elaborate. The funeral may not take place at the end of next week. Lorraine's composure seems to have gone for a walk.
My friend Lisabeth was on the bus this evening. We talked about "Heroes", "Gangsters", "Dexter", where television programmes can be downloaded from on the net, the current bad weather, the snowstorm that hit the Midlands back on 9th February 2007 (when we spoke to each other for the first time), her and my plans for the weekend (not together, by the way) and other things that currently slip my mind. I looked into her eyes for a full 35 minutes and she didn't break eye contact even once.
I have had sexual dreams about her and also about Lorraine.
Yes. With everything that is going on at the moment, I am truly a shit.
What am I going to do?
My friend Lisabeth was on the bus this evening. We talked about "Heroes", "Gangsters", "Dexter", where television programmes can be downloaded from on the net, the current bad weather, the snowstorm that hit the Midlands back on 9th February 2007 (when we spoke to each other for the first time), her and my plans for the weekend (not together, by the way) and other things that currently slip my mind. I looked into her eyes for a full 35 minutes and she didn't break eye contact even once.
I have had sexual dreams about her and also about Lorraine.
Yes. With everything that is going on at the moment, I am truly a shit.
What am I going to do?
Friday, June 29, 2007
"Doctor Who". Speculation and maybe spoilers. You can skip the next bit, if you want.
Wasn't last Saturday's episode brilliant? The Doctor incapacitated. The Master in control. Martha on the run. Captain Jack dead (but not for long). The U.S. President dead. The human race facing doomsday, or at least a severe culling. John Simm just about dominated the episode, and although it was a fine line he straddled between megalomania and pantomime, I think he just about kept on the right side of that line. Great stuff.
On balance most of the current series has been outstanding. Tomorrow is the season finale and then it's the long wait until the Christmas episode that is going to feature, of all people, Kylie Minogue. Apparently Russell T. Davies wrote the part with Britney Spears in mind, but she wasn't interested. Silly Britney (but I still love her...)
The interesting question here is will David Tennant still be The Doctor after tomorrow? Well, there's the rub. I heard this week that 3 different cliffhanger endings have been filmed and they are...
Public schoolboy Nigel Colby (Tom Sturridge) is found dead. His head has been blown off. Arrogant rich kid Alex (Eddie Redmayne) is found standing over the body with a shotgun, but he denies committing murder. As Alex is a minor, criminal psychologist Sally (Toni Collette) is asked to determine whether the boy should be charged with the murder of his schoolfriend. As Alex tells his story, flashbacks reveal the truth of what happened and the shifting relationship between the two boys. Or do they? Who is insane here? Nigel? Alex? Or maybe both?
I checked the cinema listings last Friday, and bored to tears with the thought of seeing a summer blockbuster, I opted for this, primarily on the basis that it featured Toni Collette, who is never less than interesting in every film she has appeared in.
I'd never heard of "Like Minds". It has not had a major cinema release in this country, which is a shame, because it's not a bad film, just a bit derivative. A low key mix of "Murder By Numbers" and "Primal Fear" set in an (English?) public school. It is a thriller, but it is also all about the shifting of control and domination and obsession.
Toni Collette and Richard Roxburgh are not top billed, despite what the picture above says, and that is correct, because their parts are really just extended cameos. The film belongs to Eddie Redmayne and Tom Sturridge as Alex and Nigel. Both good, otherworldly performances, especially by Eddie Redmayne.
I think that "Like Minds" is worth a look.
********
My Brother was barred from Reflex, a couple of Saturday's ago. I have pierced this story together from what my Brother told me and from what my Brother has told my Mom. The truth is somewhere in between.
My Brother has been having a long distance relationship with a girl. Most weekends he has been visiting her, but a couple of weekends ago she came up to Brum. My Brother was out with this girl. His best mate tagged along. My Brother went to the toilet. When he came back his best mate was groping the girl and the girl was trying to swallow his best mate's face. My Brother showed his displeasure at this turn of events with his fists.
Bouncers tried to intervene. My Brother showed his displeasure at the bouncers trying to intervene by kicking one of the bouncers in the balls. My Brother was ejected from the establishment and told to never return.
My Brother is a player. Has been for a while. Goes out with girls, gets his way and then disposes of them. He cares about nothing except his family and Aston Villa football club. I don't think he has any conscience. Frankly, I think he got what he deserved. It's been a long time coming.
Lorraine said it was lucky I wasn't with him that weekend. (It was the weekend I had a pain in my foot.) She said that the girl might have come on to me. No. I don't think so. I'm hardly attractive. I'm glad I wasn't there, though. Because I would have had to stand with my Brother. Right or wrong.
********
The family have been talking about me. My Mom has been thinking about the Pynchon-And-Lorraine-Do-Not-Fuck situation. She has a solution.
Last Saturday she told me that I must leave Lorraine. The sooner the better.
Not as easy as that Mom.
Why?
Because I love her.
Well, she doesn't love you, does she?
Maybe. I'll have to ask her.
And then she tutted.
That's my Mom.
********
Ginger Foghorn, I will write about on my next post. I'm in a Glam Rock kind of mood.
Wasn't last Saturday's episode brilliant? The Doctor incapacitated. The Master in control. Martha on the run. Captain Jack dead (but not for long). The U.S. President dead. The human race facing doomsday, or at least a severe culling. John Simm just about dominated the episode, and although it was a fine line he straddled between megalomania and pantomime, I think he just about kept on the right side of that line. Great stuff.
On balance most of the current series has been outstanding. Tomorrow is the season finale and then it's the long wait until the Christmas episode that is going to feature, of all people, Kylie Minogue. Apparently Russell T. Davies wrote the part with Britney Spears in mind, but she wasn't interested. Silly Britney (but I still love her...)
The interesting question here is will David Tennant still be The Doctor after tomorrow? Well, there's the rub. I heard this week that 3 different cliffhanger endings have been filmed and they are...
- Martha is kidnapped by aliens and the Doctor sets out to find her.
- In the act of saving the Earth, the Tardis is apparently destroyed.
- The Doctor is mortally wounded and regenerates into...
Ah... Well, I've heard names. How about this one?
Robert Carlyle.
I don't think he is a good fit, but what do I know? I remember being outraged when Sylvester McCoy got the job in 1987, and he turned out to be brilliant. (I told him as much when I got his autograph a couple of years ago. He smiled at me benevolently and said, "You weren't the only one who thought that." Lovely man.)
Lorraine is convinced that tomorrow will be David Tennant's last hurrah. If it is, I will be sad, because he has been great.
The king is dead. Long live the king.
********
On Sunday I saw "Like Minds" at the Midlands Art Centre.
Public schoolboy Nigel Colby (Tom Sturridge) is found dead. His head has been blown off. Arrogant rich kid Alex (Eddie Redmayne) is found standing over the body with a shotgun, but he denies committing murder. As Alex is a minor, criminal psychologist Sally (Toni Collette) is asked to determine whether the boy should be charged with the murder of his schoolfriend. As Alex tells his story, flashbacks reveal the truth of what happened and the shifting relationship between the two boys. Or do they? Who is insane here? Nigel? Alex? Or maybe both?
I checked the cinema listings last Friday, and bored to tears with the thought of seeing a summer blockbuster, I opted for this, primarily on the basis that it featured Toni Collette, who is never less than interesting in every film she has appeared in.
I'd never heard of "Like Minds". It has not had a major cinema release in this country, which is a shame, because it's not a bad film, just a bit derivative. A low key mix of "Murder By Numbers" and "Primal Fear" set in an (English?) public school. It is a thriller, but it is also all about the shifting of control and domination and obsession.
Toni Collette and Richard Roxburgh are not top billed, despite what the picture above says, and that is correct, because their parts are really just extended cameos. The film belongs to Eddie Redmayne and Tom Sturridge as Alex and Nigel. Both good, otherworldly performances, especially by Eddie Redmayne.
I think that "Like Minds" is worth a look.
********
My Brother was barred from Reflex, a couple of Saturday's ago. I have pierced this story together from what my Brother told me and from what my Brother has told my Mom. The truth is somewhere in between.
My Brother has been having a long distance relationship with a girl. Most weekends he has been visiting her, but a couple of weekends ago she came up to Brum. My Brother was out with this girl. His best mate tagged along. My Brother went to the toilet. When he came back his best mate was groping the girl and the girl was trying to swallow his best mate's face. My Brother showed his displeasure at this turn of events with his fists.
Bouncers tried to intervene. My Brother showed his displeasure at the bouncers trying to intervene by kicking one of the bouncers in the balls. My Brother was ejected from the establishment and told to never return.
My Brother is a player. Has been for a while. Goes out with girls, gets his way and then disposes of them. He cares about nothing except his family and Aston Villa football club. I don't think he has any conscience. Frankly, I think he got what he deserved. It's been a long time coming.
Lorraine said it was lucky I wasn't with him that weekend. (It was the weekend I had a pain in my foot.) She said that the girl might have come on to me. No. I don't think so. I'm hardly attractive. I'm glad I wasn't there, though. Because I would have had to stand with my Brother. Right or wrong.
********
The family have been talking about me. My Mom has been thinking about the Pynchon-And-Lorraine-Do-Not-Fuck situation. She has a solution.
Last Saturday she told me that I must leave Lorraine. The sooner the better.
Not as easy as that Mom.
Why?
Because I love her.
Well, she doesn't love you, does she?
Maybe. I'll have to ask her.
And then she tutted.
That's my Mom.
********
Ginger Foghorn, I will write about on my next post. I'm in a Glam Rock kind of mood.
Labels: Family, Movies, Sex, Television
Thursday, June 28, 2007
I am supposed to be reading the next Terry Pratchett "Discworld" novel, but instead I've been been reading Keith Allen's autobiography "Grow Up". It was an impulse buy, in hardback, even though I vowed not less than a week ago that impulse buys were definitely out of the question for the foreseeable future, seeing as I have very little actual fucking money. Despite the fact that I am nearly half way through it, and he has yet to have any dealings with anybody famous, it is a really funny read. Well worth the money.
Some might disagree, but I think Keith Allen is a great talent. "Gino: Full Story And Pics" is still my favourite of the "Comic Strip" series. His documentary "Keith Allen Will Burn In Hell", shown last week on Channel 4, about the activities of the Westboro Baptist Church (purveyors of the insanity of this website and this website), is an absolute classic. They should show it in schools.
********
The UK has been having a bit of rain.
(You don't say. I do say!)
I shouldn't make light of it. People have died and houses have been wrecked. It's been difficult for a lot of people. Where I live, it is easy for me to shrug my shoulders and say "It's a shame, but so what?" I have never been flooded out. (I don't count the water leak in 2002, although I have never entered the kitchen since without checking the ceiling.) I suppose my house must be on higher ground.
I got a small lesson in the effect of the flooding when visiting the Midlands Art Centre last Sunday to see a film. There was a small sign at reception which said something like this.
"We apologize for any inconvenience caused by last week's closure of the cinema. The closure was due to massive flooding in Cannon Hill Park and the subsequent flooding of the cinema. Patrons may notice, at present, a damp smell in the cinema and we wish to apologise for this. We are told that the smell will abate in time and beg for your patience and understanding."
(Lovely note, by the way. Very sincere.)
I had a walk around the park and witnessed some of the attempts to limit the devastation of the week before. (God knows what it is like now. The rain started up again, this week.) It had been tidied up, but there were sandbags and mud and shit everywhere. The lake looks like it had burst it's banks. You could see the marks on the ground.
If I ever seriously got flooded out I would freak. I don't like water where it shouldn't be. I especially wouldn't like water in my living room or by my TV or computer. Water belongs in taps, sinks and baths. And the Ocean.
********
There are a lot of squirrels in Cannon Hill Park. Very skinny squirrels. I get a lot of squirrels in my back garden. It is not unknown for six or seven of the buggers to caper about my back garden, having a laugh, stealing the seed and nuts I put out every week for the poor, starving little birdies. Every single one of the squirrels in my back garden are fat.
(How fat are squirrels supposed to be? I don't know.)
In Cannon Hill Park I witnessed a teenage girl trying to entice a squirrel to eat some crisps. She had put the crisps on the ground, had stepped away and was making clicking noises with her tounge. The squirrel was having none of it. He was halfway up a tree giving the girl the evil eye. The girl's boyfriend, standing behind her, looked at me and I looked at him. He shrugged and gave me a look that spoke volumes.
Silly cow, is what the look said.
********
I had not eaten and I was hungry. There was time before the film started, so I went to the Midlands Art Centre restaurant, ordered a bowl of chilli, chips and rice and sat eating it. A lady and a guy came in with a young baby. The guy ordered food and they sat down. The lady undid her blouse, took off her bra, prepped a nipple and started breast feeding the baby.
I stared. I don't think I was the only one who stared. Eventually I decided not to be so fucking rude and concentrated on my bowl of food.
This is the 21st century. A woman feeding her child in a perfectly natural way in a public place should not be of any interest at all, but it is. I don't know why it is.
True, maybe I would have been less inclined to look if she had not been a gorgeous redhead with shoulder length hair, green eyes, full red lips, creamy pale skin, great tits and wearing the kind of peasant blouse that has turned me on since I saw Linda Hayden wearing one in "Blood On Satan's Claw" when I was about 14.
Shallow. That's me.
********
More tomorrow.
Some might disagree, but I think Keith Allen is a great talent. "Gino: Full Story And Pics" is still my favourite of the "Comic Strip" series. His documentary "Keith Allen Will Burn In Hell", shown last week on Channel 4, about the activities of the Westboro Baptist Church (purveyors of the insanity of this website and this website), is an absolute classic. They should show it in schools.
********
The UK has been having a bit of rain.
(You don't say. I do say!)
I shouldn't make light of it. People have died and houses have been wrecked. It's been difficult for a lot of people. Where I live, it is easy for me to shrug my shoulders and say "It's a shame, but so what?" I have never been flooded out. (I don't count the water leak in 2002, although I have never entered the kitchen since without checking the ceiling.) I suppose my house must be on higher ground.
I got a small lesson in the effect of the flooding when visiting the Midlands Art Centre last Sunday to see a film. There was a small sign at reception which said something like this.
"We apologize for any inconvenience caused by last week's closure of the cinema. The closure was due to massive flooding in Cannon Hill Park and the subsequent flooding of the cinema. Patrons may notice, at present, a damp smell in the cinema and we wish to apologise for this. We are told that the smell will abate in time and beg for your patience and understanding."
(Lovely note, by the way. Very sincere.)
I had a walk around the park and witnessed some of the attempts to limit the devastation of the week before. (God knows what it is like now. The rain started up again, this week.) It had been tidied up, but there were sandbags and mud and shit everywhere. The lake looks like it had burst it's banks. You could see the marks on the ground.
If I ever seriously got flooded out I would freak. I don't like water where it shouldn't be. I especially wouldn't like water in my living room or by my TV or computer. Water belongs in taps, sinks and baths. And the Ocean.
********
There are a lot of squirrels in Cannon Hill Park. Very skinny squirrels. I get a lot of squirrels in my back garden. It is not unknown for six or seven of the buggers to caper about my back garden, having a laugh, stealing the seed and nuts I put out every week for the poor, starving little birdies. Every single one of the squirrels in my back garden are fat.
(How fat are squirrels supposed to be? I don't know.)
In Cannon Hill Park I witnessed a teenage girl trying to entice a squirrel to eat some crisps. She had put the crisps on the ground, had stepped away and was making clicking noises with her tounge. The squirrel was having none of it. He was halfway up a tree giving the girl the evil eye. The girl's boyfriend, standing behind her, looked at me and I looked at him. He shrugged and gave me a look that spoke volumes.
Silly cow, is what the look said.
********
I had not eaten and I was hungry. There was time before the film started, so I went to the Midlands Art Centre restaurant, ordered a bowl of chilli, chips and rice and sat eating it. A lady and a guy came in with a young baby. The guy ordered food and they sat down. The lady undid her blouse, took off her bra, prepped a nipple and started breast feeding the baby.
I stared. I don't think I was the only one who stared. Eventually I decided not to be so fucking rude and concentrated on my bowl of food.
This is the 21st century. A woman feeding her child in a perfectly natural way in a public place should not be of any interest at all, but it is. I don't know why it is.
True, maybe I would have been less inclined to look if she had not been a gorgeous redhead with shoulder length hair, green eyes, full red lips, creamy pale skin, great tits and wearing the kind of peasant blouse that has turned me on since I saw Linda Hayden wearing one in "Blood On Satan's Claw" when I was about 14.
Shallow. That's me.
********
More tomorrow.
Labels: Reading, Sex, Squirrels, Weather
Monday, April 16, 2007
It is not even May, but Lorraine has been making plans for Christmas. She says that she wants a family Christmas. By this she means that she wants to spend Christmas with her family, as she would be more likely to stick needles in her eyes than want to spend Christmas with my family.
Lorraine's sister Ellen thinks that this is a fine idea and has been sticking her oar in and organising things. She has come up with a venue.
Weymouth. In December.
Oh, fuck off...
I'm sure that Weymouth is very nice, but I'm not going and I've told Lorraine as much. She is still keen to go, with or without me. Good for her. I wished her the best. She doesn't seem particularly bothered that I will not be with her.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I will not be stuck for a week with people that I struggle to spend a couple of hours with and who, constantly, sideline Lorraine because she had a different Father to the rest of them.
Ellen, hubby Victor and their two rude bastard freak children. Lorraine's brother Victor (who is OK), missus Linda (who looks at me like an Entomologist studying a rare insect) and their two sets of twins. Lorraine's step dad Ian (who is OK) and his missus, the ever dreadful Penny (who might not want to go either, and if she says No, the whole thing might be off.)
No. It will be shit. Lorraine and I will be ignored in favour of children and parents. I don't know why Lorraine wants to put herself in that situation. (They are her family, you ignoramus! That's why.)
So, I will probably be home alone at Christmas. I will be invited to Sister 1's for Christmas dinner, because she invites us every year and we never go, but this year I will go. I will get pissed with my Brother. I will watch TV. Maybe I will convince my Brother to accompany me to a lap dancing club and see if the cold December air makes the strippers nipples stand up even taller.
After Ben died I thought that we were going to arrange a holiday together this year. Lorraine has told me that we haven't got the money.
(Tonight's post brought to you by "Are You Lonesome Tonight" by Elvis Presley.)
In other news, today I have had conversations with two beautiful women who wanted to talk to me.
At the bus stop I talked to a girl that I call Red. I wrote about Red before, remember? Large girl. Red headed. Used to dress plainly and unobtrusively until she became a glorious, nervous butterfly one day in September 2006. And she knocked me out. A nice looking girl, but didn't know it. We talked about the weather and the bad bus service. Lovely smile.
On the bus I talked to an Austrian girl called Lisabeth. I written about her before. I fell in love with her for 2 hours on the bus in February 2007, during the snowstorms that paralysed the West Midlands. I've seen her on the bus a handful of times since then. We always chat. This time we talked about Prince William and Kate Middleton (I don't really give a shit, but I think he is going to have a life of romantic misery, just like his Dad), work, the weather, gardening, films (hurrah!) and foreign holidays. Lisabeth has a strange accent and eyes that go on forever and perfect teeth and a chest...
Maybe if I lived in reality I would be doing a lot better. I feel that I am nothing but scum.
Isn't this boring?
Lorraine's sister Ellen thinks that this is a fine idea and has been sticking her oar in and organising things. She has come up with a venue.
Weymouth. In December.
Oh, fuck off...
I'm sure that Weymouth is very nice, but I'm not going and I've told Lorraine as much. She is still keen to go, with or without me. Good for her. I wished her the best. She doesn't seem particularly bothered that I will not be with her.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I will not be stuck for a week with people that I struggle to spend a couple of hours with and who, constantly, sideline Lorraine because she had a different Father to the rest of them.
Ellen, hubby Victor and their two rude bastard freak children. Lorraine's brother Victor (who is OK), missus Linda (who looks at me like an Entomologist studying a rare insect) and their two sets of twins. Lorraine's step dad Ian (who is OK) and his missus, the ever dreadful Penny (who might not want to go either, and if she says No, the whole thing might be off.)
No. It will be shit. Lorraine and I will be ignored in favour of children and parents. I don't know why Lorraine wants to put herself in that situation. (They are her family, you ignoramus! That's why.)
So, I will probably be home alone at Christmas. I will be invited to Sister 1's for Christmas dinner, because she invites us every year and we never go, but this year I will go. I will get pissed with my Brother. I will watch TV. Maybe I will convince my Brother to accompany me to a lap dancing club and see if the cold December air makes the strippers nipples stand up even taller.
After Ben died I thought that we were going to arrange a holiday together this year. Lorraine has told me that we haven't got the money.
(Tonight's post brought to you by "Are You Lonesome Tonight" by Elvis Presley.)
In other news, today I have had conversations with two beautiful women who wanted to talk to me.
At the bus stop I talked to a girl that I call Red. I wrote about Red before, remember? Large girl. Red headed. Used to dress plainly and unobtrusively until she became a glorious, nervous butterfly one day in September 2006. And she knocked me out. A nice looking girl, but didn't know it. We talked about the weather and the bad bus service. Lovely smile.
On the bus I talked to an Austrian girl called Lisabeth. I written about her before. I fell in love with her for 2 hours on the bus in February 2007, during the snowstorms that paralysed the West Midlands. I've seen her on the bus a handful of times since then. We always chat. This time we talked about Prince William and Kate Middleton (I don't really give a shit, but I think he is going to have a life of romantic misery, just like his Dad), work, the weather, gardening, films (hurrah!) and foreign holidays. Lisabeth has a strange accent and eyes that go on forever and perfect teeth and a chest...
Maybe if I lived in reality I would be doing a lot better. I feel that I am nothing but scum.
Isn't this boring?
Labels: Christmas, Lorraine, Sex
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
29 minutes before "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" starts.
I was ill yesterday. I had a migraine. Lorraine thought I was on a skive, but I wasn't. Two minutes after she left the house I was violently sick in the bathroom. I had several Ibuprofen and went back to bed. I rose from the dead at midday, and after eggs, tea, bananas and a quick post, had a very nice couple of hours, dazed and confused on the settee in the front room.
I was extra nice when Lorraine came home and we are now talking again. Just before bedtime I raised the subject of sex again. No raised voices. No anger. Just words, and they were very quiet words.
I said that she/we/I should go to see somebody. A counselor. A therapist. Whatever.
Lorraine said that she did not need to see anybody. She said that I was only pissed off because I "wasn't getting any".
I didn't disagree with that, but said that the only question I wanted answered was, why wasn't I getting any? Yes, initial physical passion fades, but something physical should remain. Is it me? Am I gross? Am I disgusting? Do I do it wrong? (Does she remember how I do it? 15 months and counting, fact fans.) Is it a medical thing, and if it is, shouldn't medical things be treated?
Lorraine said it was down to "The situation we are in".
I asked her to explain what she meant by "The situation we are in" and she couldn't or wouldn't.
I said that I didn't want to have half a relationship anymore... and I nearly said that if all she wanted was a housemate, then I would be happy to be that, but that I intended to have sex again with somebody that wanted to have sex with me and that person wasn't necessarily going to be her... but I let that go.
I said that I wanted to have a serious talk, and just before bed was not the right time to do it. She agreed.
The time will be made and we are going to talk at the weekend. Yes, I know I've said that a serious talk is just around the corner, and it never seems to happen, but it will happen this weekend. I am determined.
This is an interesting article in today's Independent newspaper. I have left it out for Lorraine to find. Maybe it's a solution? Subtle. That's me.
I was ill yesterday. I had a migraine. Lorraine thought I was on a skive, but I wasn't. Two minutes after she left the house I was violently sick in the bathroom. I had several Ibuprofen and went back to bed. I rose from the dead at midday, and after eggs, tea, bananas and a quick post, had a very nice couple of hours, dazed and confused on the settee in the front room.
I was extra nice when Lorraine came home and we are now talking again. Just before bedtime I raised the subject of sex again. No raised voices. No anger. Just words, and they were very quiet words.
I said that she/we/I should go to see somebody. A counselor. A therapist. Whatever.
Lorraine said that she did not need to see anybody. She said that I was only pissed off because I "wasn't getting any".
I didn't disagree with that, but said that the only question I wanted answered was, why wasn't I getting any? Yes, initial physical passion fades, but something physical should remain. Is it me? Am I gross? Am I disgusting? Do I do it wrong? (Does she remember how I do it? 15 months and counting, fact fans.) Is it a medical thing, and if it is, shouldn't medical things be treated?
Lorraine said it was down to "The situation we are in".
I asked her to explain what she meant by "The situation we are in" and she couldn't or wouldn't.
I said that I didn't want to have half a relationship anymore... and I nearly said that if all she wanted was a housemate, then I would be happy to be that, but that I intended to have sex again with somebody that wanted to have sex with me and that person wasn't necessarily going to be her... but I let that go.
I said that I wanted to have a serious talk, and just before bed was not the right time to do it. She agreed.
The time will be made and we are going to talk at the weekend. Yes, I know I've said that a serious talk is just around the corner, and it never seems to happen, but it will happen this weekend. I am determined.
This is an interesting article in today's Independent newspaper. I have left it out for Lorraine to find. Maybe it's a solution? Subtle. That's me.
Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Yesterday I felt bad. Really bad and really sick. I think that everything had managed to get on top of me and I worked myself into a tizzy.
I barely slept Sunday evening/Monday morning. I woke with a headache. I took pills and went to work. The headache came back. I took more pills. I snapped at everybody. Lorraine ignored me because I was just being Bad Pynchon. In the afternoon I was sick in the toilet. I craved and ate junk food (3 packets of crisps and 3 bars of chocolates) and was sick again. I refused to go home. The headache came back and I found that couldn't stand bright lights. Migraine? Maybe. Home time and Lorraine managed to wrangle a lift home for us, thank God. I don't think I could have stood the journey on the bus.
As soon as I arrived home I took more pills and went to bed. Two hours later, after the sleep of the dead, Lorraine asked me if I wanted to eat something. I did. I felt a lot better. I chilled in front of the TV and went upstairs when Lorraine went to bed. (A bit later than normal, for her, as she was visiting a customer site today and was going to be travelling from home.)
And then things got a lot better.
Lorraine was in bed. I stood in the doorway. I said, "I don't suppose you fancy any sex, do you?"
"Not really, John", she said.
"How about just assisting with some wanking?"
She thought about that for a couple of seconds.
"OK, but it'll have to be in your room".
Good enough for me.
We retired to my room. She took off her red dressing gown. She looked amazing. I did the deed and she assisted,. She let me touch her chests, after I had promised not to grab, and it was wonderful and rude and glorious.
(Too blunt? Couldn't give a bollocks.)
Afterwards I said to her, "I just want us to be like we used to be", and she said nothing, but she did kiss me on the cheek and told me that she loved me.
I'd call that a result. Yes? Yes, that is a result. All I have every really wanted is the hope that things are going to get better, and now they just might be get better. Talking about things is the thing that we need to crack now.
Tomorrow evening I will be with Amy Winehouse at the Birmingham Carling Academy. Well, strictly speaking I'll be in the audience, but you never know. Ha! Ha!
Back on Thursday.
I barely slept Sunday evening/Monday morning. I woke with a headache. I took pills and went to work. The headache came back. I took more pills. I snapped at everybody. Lorraine ignored me because I was just being Bad Pynchon. In the afternoon I was sick in the toilet. I craved and ate junk food (3 packets of crisps and 3 bars of chocolates) and was sick again. I refused to go home. The headache came back and I found that couldn't stand bright lights. Migraine? Maybe. Home time and Lorraine managed to wrangle a lift home for us, thank God. I don't think I could have stood the journey on the bus.
As soon as I arrived home I took more pills and went to bed. Two hours later, after the sleep of the dead, Lorraine asked me if I wanted to eat something. I did. I felt a lot better. I chilled in front of the TV and went upstairs when Lorraine went to bed. (A bit later than normal, for her, as she was visiting a customer site today and was going to be travelling from home.)
And then things got a lot better.
Lorraine was in bed. I stood in the doorway. I said, "I don't suppose you fancy any sex, do you?"
"Not really, John", she said.
"How about just assisting with some wanking?"
She thought about that for a couple of seconds.
"OK, but it'll have to be in your room".
Good enough for me.
We retired to my room. She took off her red dressing gown. She looked amazing. I did the deed and she assisted,. She let me touch her chests, after I had promised not to grab, and it was wonderful and rude and glorious.
(Too blunt? Couldn't give a bollocks.)
Afterwards I said to her, "I just want us to be like we used to be", and she said nothing, but she did kiss me on the cheek and told me that she loved me.
I'd call that a result. Yes? Yes, that is a result. All I have every really wanted is the hope that things are going to get better, and now they just might be get better. Talking about things is the thing that we need to crack now.
Tomorrow evening I will be with Amy Winehouse at the Birmingham Carling Academy. Well, strictly speaking I'll be in the audience, but you never know. Ha! Ha!
Back on Thursday.
Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex
Sunday, February 18, 2007
No film today, because I managed to spend the whole of the day at Sister 1's messing with her PC. I didn't really mind. I find that I learn an awful lot about how PC's and Windows works by messing with my siblings' PC's. (Mess with my own PC first? Fuck off!)
I learnt today that my Niece just loves to download toolbars for Internet Explorer 7. Loading up Internet Explorer on Sister 1's PC was like having a migraine nightmare on a street in downtown Tokyo. (Never been to Tokyo, but I would like to.) Lots of flashing graphics. Lots of adverts. Lots of colour!!! About a third of the screen was taken over with toolbar shit. I asked Sister 1 where all of that stuff came from. She said
"Ask the demon"
indicating my Niece, who was sitting at the table with a serene, innocent expression on her face. Don't ask me - I know nothing, what was she was thinking. I could read her thoughts.
My Niece is the Devil. A smart Devil, it must be said, and way cleverer than she lets on.
With a bit of prompting my Niece helped me download all of the latest Microsoft updates, update the Firewall and Virus checker, renew the subscription on the Firewall and Virus checker that was just about the expire, remove all of the games (except the ones I bought her for her birthday), remove most of the toolbars she had downloaded (Google being the only one we decided to keep), run a defrag, setup filters on Outlook Express, tidy up the desktop and remove all temporary Internet files.
I then let her play me the video of "Flying Without Wings" by Westlife. She found it on You Tube. It's her Mom's favourite record. My Niece thinks that she discovered You Tube.
My Niece is 9 years old. She will be 10 in May. One day my Niece will rule the world. Don't doubt it.
My Niece became bored with old people talk, so she went outside to play. Time for a chat with Sister 1.
Sister 1 leaned back, lit a cigarette, looked me in the face and said
"So, what's going on then, John?"
and I told her. I fessed up. I spilled nearly everything. (I didn't mention the blog.) Lorraine and Me. The lack of communication. The lack of sex. The tension. The frustration. The lows. My anger. A bit about the drinking and the blackout that worried me so much at Christmas.
It was cathartic. I've not had such a serious conversation with Sister 1 for a very long time. There was a time when we were completely honest with each other, because no matter how we fought and fell out, secrets were secrets and would never be revealed.
Sister 1 said that I needed to talk to Lorraine. I needed to talk seriously and quickly, before it all fell apart. She said how much she liked Lorraine, but couldn't understand why Lorraine didn't want to talk about our problems.
Indeed.
Re. Sister 1's personal life, until recently she had been nobbing a guy 15 years younger than herself (she will be 38 this year, so well done Sis!), but now it is over. Something about him texting her for Sex at 4:30 in the morning and her commenting that she was "Not a fucking hooker!"
Turn the page. Time to write of better things.
Yesterday I purchased tickets to see The Who at the NIA in May. I got quite good seats. I'll be going with my Brother and Boz Rude from work. Boz is a massive Who fan and is always good fun.
Finally, next Saturday Lorraine and I will be going to see Maureen Lipman in the play "Martha, Josie and the Chinese Elvis" at the Birmingham REP. I know practically nothing about the play, except that it is a comedy, but Lorraine is a huge Maureen Lipman fan and she wanted to go. I'll read up on the play before I get there.
And that, as they say, is that. I'm off. You can talk amongst yourselves while I'm away.
I learnt today that my Niece just loves to download toolbars for Internet Explorer 7. Loading up Internet Explorer on Sister 1's PC was like having a migraine nightmare on a street in downtown Tokyo. (Never been to Tokyo, but I would like to.) Lots of flashing graphics. Lots of adverts. Lots of colour!!! About a third of the screen was taken over with toolbar shit. I asked Sister 1 where all of that stuff came from. She said
"Ask the demon"
indicating my Niece, who was sitting at the table with a serene, innocent expression on her face. Don't ask me - I know nothing, what was she was thinking. I could read her thoughts.
My Niece is the Devil. A smart Devil, it must be said, and way cleverer than she lets on.
With a bit of prompting my Niece helped me download all of the latest Microsoft updates, update the Firewall and Virus checker, renew the subscription on the Firewall and Virus checker that was just about the expire, remove all of the games (except the ones I bought her for her birthday), remove most of the toolbars she had downloaded (Google being the only one we decided to keep), run a defrag, setup filters on Outlook Express, tidy up the desktop and remove all temporary Internet files.
I then let her play me the video of "Flying Without Wings" by Westlife. She found it on You Tube. It's her Mom's favourite record. My Niece thinks that she discovered You Tube.
My Niece is 9 years old. She will be 10 in May. One day my Niece will rule the world. Don't doubt it.
My Niece became bored with old people talk, so she went outside to play. Time for a chat with Sister 1.
Sister 1 leaned back, lit a cigarette, looked me in the face and said
"So, what's going on then, John?"
and I told her. I fessed up. I spilled nearly everything. (I didn't mention the blog.) Lorraine and Me. The lack of communication. The lack of sex. The tension. The frustration. The lows. My anger. A bit about the drinking and the blackout that worried me so much at Christmas.
It was cathartic. I've not had such a serious conversation with Sister 1 for a very long time. There was a time when we were completely honest with each other, because no matter how we fought and fell out, secrets were secrets and would never be revealed.
Sister 1 said that I needed to talk to Lorraine. I needed to talk seriously and quickly, before it all fell apart. She said how much she liked Lorraine, but couldn't understand why Lorraine didn't want to talk about our problems.
Indeed.
Re. Sister 1's personal life, until recently she had been nobbing a guy 15 years younger than herself (she will be 38 this year, so well done Sis!), but now it is over. Something about him texting her for Sex at 4:30 in the morning and her commenting that she was "Not a fucking hooker!"
Turn the page. Time to write of better things.
Yesterday I purchased tickets to see The Who at the NIA in May. I got quite good seats. I'll be going with my Brother and Boz Rude from work. Boz is a massive Who fan and is always good fun.
Finally, next Saturday Lorraine and I will be going to see Maureen Lipman in the play "Martha, Josie and the Chinese Elvis" at the Birmingham REP. I know practically nothing about the play, except that it is a comedy, but Lorraine is a huge Maureen Lipman fan and she wanted to go. I'll read up on the play before I get there.
And that, as they say, is that. I'm off. You can talk amongst yourselves while I'm away.
Labels: Computers, Family, Lorraine, Sex
Saturday, February 17, 2007
I like this quote. I don't know who said it.
"Mohandas K. Gandhi often changed his mind publicly. An aide once asked him how he could so freely contradict this week what he had said just last week. The great man replied that it was because this week he knew better."
I also like this quote. Again, an unknown quotee.
"You cannot propel yourself forward by patting yourself on the back."
I pat myself on the back a lot. I think that I am awfully clever. I know that I am awfully clever. I am smug, self satisfied and inflexible. I know that I am in the right regardless of how many people think that I am in the wrong. I think that anybody who disagrees with me obviously is not in full possessions of the facts, or is an idiot, plain and simple.
Basically, if you knew me personally for any length of time, I think that you would learn to dislike me a great deal.
On the day before Lorraine and I moved in together, my Mom took Lorraine's hands, kissed her on the cheek and wished her the best of luck, because "You're going to need it, love". My Mom has always said that I am unbearable to live with and that's from somebody who I truly believe loves me.
This evening I've been watching "Brokeback Mountain" on Sky Movies. I've seen it before at the cinema, but it is still an engrossing, astounding and brilliant piece of work. One of my favourite films of the past couple of years. There is a great and real scene when Jake Gyllenhaal says to Heath Ledger, "I wish I knew how to quit you."
Yes. I wish I knew how to quit Lorraine.
I bought Lorraine flowers. Beautiful pale red tulips. I've been pushing things the last couple of days and it has all been to no avail. All it has caused is stress and anger. I wanted to make amends. Lorraine loves flowers and she liked the tulips. She was surprised and I got a kiss.
Did I have an ulterior motive? Did I think that because of the flowers she would want to spend the evening with me and then suggest that she share a bed with me? Of course in my fantasies I hoped that that would happen, but I didn't count on it, and it didn't happen. Lorraine went to bed 10 minutes into "Brokeback Mountain" claiming that she was tired, which was probably true because she went to work today.
And I am here. And I am stuck and upset and angry. Maybe my Mom is right and I am unbearable to live with and I am lucky to have had the time with Lorraine that I have had. My Mom had to put up with me. Somebody else doesn't have to.
This afternoon I went to see "La Science Des Rêves" or "The Science Of Sleep".
Michel Gondry, who directed this, also directed "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind". That was a great film. I would say that "La Science Des Rêves" is OK, but only that. Thematically it is similar to "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" in that quite a bit of the plot takes place in the mind of one man, but whereas "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" was a warm experience, this one is a cold one. Gael Garcia Bernal tries hard, and some of blatantly primitive special effects are quite wonderful, but I just didn't care one way or another. It's a kooky and strange film, and irritating, and is definitely not as good as "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind".
Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for it. Another day and I might have thought that it was wonderful.
Tomorrow I am going to see Sister 1. Computer stuff to do.
"Mohandas K. Gandhi often changed his mind publicly. An aide once asked him how he could so freely contradict this week what he had said just last week. The great man replied that it was because this week he knew better."
I also like this quote. Again, an unknown quotee.
"You cannot propel yourself forward by patting yourself on the back."
I pat myself on the back a lot. I think that I am awfully clever. I know that I am awfully clever. I am smug, self satisfied and inflexible. I know that I am in the right regardless of how many people think that I am in the wrong. I think that anybody who disagrees with me obviously is not in full possessions of the facts, or is an idiot, plain and simple.
Basically, if you knew me personally for any length of time, I think that you would learn to dislike me a great deal.
On the day before Lorraine and I moved in together, my Mom took Lorraine's hands, kissed her on the cheek and wished her the best of luck, because "You're going to need it, love". My Mom has always said that I am unbearable to live with and that's from somebody who I truly believe loves me.
This evening I've been watching "Brokeback Mountain" on Sky Movies. I've seen it before at the cinema, but it is still an engrossing, astounding and brilliant piece of work. One of my favourite films of the past couple of years. There is a great and real scene when Jake Gyllenhaal says to Heath Ledger, "I wish I knew how to quit you."
Yes. I wish I knew how to quit Lorraine.
I bought Lorraine flowers. Beautiful pale red tulips. I've been pushing things the last couple of days and it has all been to no avail. All it has caused is stress and anger. I wanted to make amends. Lorraine loves flowers and she liked the tulips. She was surprised and I got a kiss.
Did I have an ulterior motive? Did I think that because of the flowers she would want to spend the evening with me and then suggest that she share a bed with me? Of course in my fantasies I hoped that that would happen, but I didn't count on it, and it didn't happen. Lorraine went to bed 10 minutes into "Brokeback Mountain" claiming that she was tired, which was probably true because she went to work today.
And I am here. And I am stuck and upset and angry. Maybe my Mom is right and I am unbearable to live with and I am lucky to have had the time with Lorraine that I have had. My Mom had to put up with me. Somebody else doesn't have to.
This afternoon I went to see "La Science Des Rêves" or "The Science Of Sleep".
Michel Gondry, who directed this, also directed "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind". That was a great film. I would say that "La Science Des Rêves" is OK, but only that. Thematically it is similar to "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" in that quite a bit of the plot takes place in the mind of one man, but whereas "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" was a warm experience, this one is a cold one. Gael Garcia Bernal tries hard, and some of blatantly primitive special effects are quite wonderful, but I just didn't care one way or another. It's a kooky and strange film, and irritating, and is definitely not as good as "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind".
Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for it. Another day and I might have thought that it was wonderful.
Tomorrow I am going to see Sister 1. Computer stuff to do.
Labels: Lorraine, Movies, Quote, Sex
Friday, February 16, 2007
Early again.
Just in case anybody was wondering, on Wednesday evening I didn't throw any water over Lorraine, but I must admit that it was a close run thing. Instead, I waited until she had finished what she was doing and had got into bed, went into her room, asked her if she wanted any "company" (which, of course, she didn't) and then I said
"But you always find time for work, don't you?"
and then impressively stropped away like Mariah Carey upon finding out that her dressing room wasn't filled with flowers and/or cute puppies.
I think Lorraine swore at me. I'm not sure.
Yesterday morning. From Lorraine, a bit of door banging, sarcastic words spoken just below an audible level and lights left on all over the house (which really pisses me off). After that the rest of the day was fine and the evening was really quite nice.
I didn't post last night because I was busy. Yes, I did chores and watched TV. "Bonkers", which is terrible (but isn't Lisa Tarbuck strangely attractive?) and "Rescue Me" which is a work of Godlike genius.
Lorraine is working again tomorrow. Nothing changes.
Just in case anybody was wondering, on Wednesday evening I didn't throw any water over Lorraine, but I must admit that it was a close run thing. Instead, I waited until she had finished what she was doing and had got into bed, went into her room, asked her if she wanted any "company" (which, of course, she didn't) and then I said
"But you always find time for work, don't you?"
and then impressively stropped away like Mariah Carey upon finding out that her dressing room wasn't filled with flowers and/or cute puppies.
I think Lorraine swore at me. I'm not sure.
Yesterday morning. From Lorraine, a bit of door banging, sarcastic words spoken just below an audible level and lights left on all over the house (which really pisses me off). After that the rest of the day was fine and the evening was really quite nice.
I didn't post last night because I was busy. Yes, I did chores and watched TV. "Bonkers", which is terrible (but isn't Lisa Tarbuck strangely attractive?) and "Rescue Me" which is a work of Godlike genius.
Lorraine is working again tomorrow. Nothing changes.
Labels: Lorraine, Sex, Television
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
OK... Not the greatest live set of all time. Frankly, Liam's voice is not what it used to be.
I only caught the first three songs and didn't even bother to turn over to ITV2 to catch the full set. No problems with "Cigarettes And Alcohol" or "What's The Story (Morning Glory)", but "The Meaning Of Soul" shouldn't have been in there at all. It should have been "Live Forever" or "Rock And Roll Star" or "Wonderwall" or "Some Might Say" or... You can choose.
I did enjoy the Brit Awards, though. I watch it every year, and it normally annoys the hell out of me, so this is a first.
Hope everybody had big love on Valentine's Day. I did have high hopes for here after Lorraine gave me a massive, big, tongue filled kiss this morning, but she is now on the laptop downstairs doing (urgent - fuck off!) stuff for work and has forgotten about everything else. Any chance I thought I may have had to be a big, lover lover man has now departed.
Now, should I go and get a glass of water and chuck it over her? I tell you something, I'm close to doing just that.
Let me think about it for a minute.
I only caught the first three songs and didn't even bother to turn over to ITV2 to catch the full set. No problems with "Cigarettes And Alcohol" or "What's The Story (Morning Glory)", but "The Meaning Of Soul" shouldn't have been in there at all. It should have been "Live Forever" or "Rock And Roll Star" or "Wonderwall" or "Some Might Say" or... You can choose.
I did enjoy the Brit Awards, though. I watch it every year, and it normally annoys the hell out of me, so this is a first.
Hope everybody had big love on Valentine's Day. I did have high hopes for here after Lorraine gave me a massive, big, tongue filled kiss this morning, but she is now on the laptop downstairs doing (urgent - fuck off!) stuff for work and has forgotten about everything else. Any chance I thought I may have had to be a big, lover lover man has now departed.
Now, should I go and get a glass of water and chuck it over her? I tell you something, I'm close to doing just that.
Let me think about it for a minute.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
I'm here early because I don't know if I will be inclined to get onto the Internet tonight. If things go badly with the building work, and I lose my Internet connection, then this may be the last post for a while. But I will be back. Don't doubt it.
Last night Lorraine and I finally had the confrontation that has been threatening since the start of the year.
For the first time in near-on a month and a half I made advances towards Lorraine. It was deliberate. I was forcing the issue. Lorraine stopped me and said she had a "headache".
And then I said, and I remember it exactly, because I had pretty well been rehearsing it for days, "You always have a headache, even when you don't have a headache. Do you know something? This relationship is a sham. It's been a sham for a long time. We are barely a couple. We sleep in separate bedrooms, don't do anything together, and it's become a fucking joke. Have you even noticed that I'm not sleeping in the same room as you? You haven't mentioned it. Or are you relieved that I don't bother you anymore? I don't know how you think we can stay together, unless we go to see somebody and sort this out."
She was angry and hurt. She said some things, I said some other things, then I slammed the door and went to bed.
It was a bit of a frosty atmosphere first thing this morning. She snapped at me. I snapped at her. Gradually things warmed up. We made some small talk about some drivel on the TV and she left for work, just after 6:30am.
Words are difficult and do not express what I am thinking.
I just want to love her. I want to love her properly. I want us to be like we were a couple of years ago. Am I such an animal? (She hasn't called me that exactly, but I think that she thinks it.) Am I that insensitive? Is this the way that middle aged couples are supposed to be? Am I an aberration because I don't think that mad sex and enjoying it is the prerogative of young people?
I'm amazed that I haven't cheated on her. Except for Friday's brainspike I haven't come close. I'm not greatly attractive, though, so I suppose that is a blessing.
How boring is this? Very boring. What's that line from that Springsteen song? "I'm tired and bored with myself".
I am.
Last night Lorraine and I finally had the confrontation that has been threatening since the start of the year.
For the first time in near-on a month and a half I made advances towards Lorraine. It was deliberate. I was forcing the issue. Lorraine stopped me and said she had a "headache".
And then I said, and I remember it exactly, because I had pretty well been rehearsing it for days, "You always have a headache, even when you don't have a headache. Do you know something? This relationship is a sham. It's been a sham for a long time. We are barely a couple. We sleep in separate bedrooms, don't do anything together, and it's become a fucking joke. Have you even noticed that I'm not sleeping in the same room as you? You haven't mentioned it. Or are you relieved that I don't bother you anymore? I don't know how you think we can stay together, unless we go to see somebody and sort this out."
She was angry and hurt. She said some things, I said some other things, then I slammed the door and went to bed.
It was a bit of a frosty atmosphere first thing this morning. She snapped at me. I snapped at her. Gradually things warmed up. We made some small talk about some drivel on the TV and she left for work, just after 6:30am.
Words are difficult and do not express what I am thinking.
I just want to love her. I want to love her properly. I want us to be like we were a couple of years ago. Am I such an animal? (She hasn't called me that exactly, but I think that she thinks it.) Am I that insensitive? Is this the way that middle aged couples are supposed to be? Am I an aberration because I don't think that mad sex and enjoying it is the prerogative of young people?
I'm amazed that I haven't cheated on her. Except for Friday's brainspike I haven't come close. I'm not greatly attractive, though, so I suppose that is a blessing.
How boring is this? Very boring. What's that line from that Springsteen song? "I'm tired and bored with myself".
I am.
Friday, February 09, 2007
I met a Girl this evening. Her name was Lisabeth.
By about 4pm this afternoon the weather in Birmingham started getting really bad, so The Company started letting people go home early. Being a saint I elected to stay, as I wasn't limited to options to get home (one bus doesn't turn up, another will at some point), but at 5pm I had had enough and left.
The bus shelter was overflowing with people. I reckon there must have been 20 people in the bus shelter and 10 people outside. I squeezed in from one end of the bus shelter and a Girl, I'd seen before many times as she gets the same bus as me, squeezed in after me. We shared a nod.
A bus came. 30 people got on. The Girl and I looked at each other. We were alone in the bus shelter.
"That's better", she said.
"Sure is", I said.
And we started talking. It was half an hour before our bus came. When we got on (ladies first, obviously) we went to the top deck, sat together and carried on talking. You can learn a lot in 2 hours.
Her name is Lisabeth. She comes from Austria. She has a lovely accent. She speaks perfect English. She studied English at school, but said that her spoken English improved dramatically once she started to work in the UK. She sometimes has trouble understanding the Irish and Scottish accent, but has no problem with the full blown Brummie accent. She works as a Credit Controller, not far from where I work. She likes her job. She has lived in London and Glasgow, but likes Birmingham better. She has worked all over Europe, but settled in the UK 6 years ago. She has a boyfriend, who she hardly sees because of the hours that both of them work. She seemed to be very smart.
She is mid 20's, shorter than me, dark haired, has green/grey eyes, perfect teeth and is curvy and pretty. Her hair was wet from the snow and I suggested that she invest in a woolly hat. That made her laugh. She had some blue eye makeup on, but it had run a little because of the water. I had to resist the temptation to wipe it off her face with my thumb. She was wearing an amazing woollen brown coat, black boots and dark trousers.
Oh, yes. Nearly forgot. I wanted her. I wanted her very badly. I felt lightheaded and breathless. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her and hold her and tell her that I loved her. I wanted to hold her hand, walk around with her and show her off to everybody. I wanted her.
I feel awful.
I know that this, whatever this is, is utter nonsense. I do not for one minute think that this is love at first sight, and that tomorrow I will be telling Lorraine that we are all over. I know that this is all about my being on my own for the week, eating badly, over tiredness because I've not been sleeping and my worries about where Lorraine and I are going. This kind of thunderbolt does not happen to me.
I miss my friend Vicky. Lisabeth looked a bit like Vicky.
I am probably coming across badly. Fuck it. This is not me in a good light, but I promised to be honest on this blog.
How am I going to face Lorraine tomorrow, when I pick her up from New Street Station? My face will betray me. It's got to.
By about 4pm this afternoon the weather in Birmingham started getting really bad, so The Company started letting people go home early. Being a saint I elected to stay, as I wasn't limited to options to get home (one bus doesn't turn up, another will at some point), but at 5pm I had had enough and left.
The bus shelter was overflowing with people. I reckon there must have been 20 people in the bus shelter and 10 people outside. I squeezed in from one end of the bus shelter and a Girl, I'd seen before many times as she gets the same bus as me, squeezed in after me. We shared a nod.
A bus came. 30 people got on. The Girl and I looked at each other. We were alone in the bus shelter.
"That's better", she said.
"Sure is", I said.
And we started talking. It was half an hour before our bus came. When we got on (ladies first, obviously) we went to the top deck, sat together and carried on talking. You can learn a lot in 2 hours.
Her name is Lisabeth. She comes from Austria. She has a lovely accent. She speaks perfect English. She studied English at school, but said that her spoken English improved dramatically once she started to work in the UK. She sometimes has trouble understanding the Irish and Scottish accent, but has no problem with the full blown Brummie accent. She works as a Credit Controller, not far from where I work. She likes her job. She has lived in London and Glasgow, but likes Birmingham better. She has worked all over Europe, but settled in the UK 6 years ago. She has a boyfriend, who she hardly sees because of the hours that both of them work. She seemed to be very smart.
She is mid 20's, shorter than me, dark haired, has green/grey eyes, perfect teeth and is curvy and pretty. Her hair was wet from the snow and I suggested that she invest in a woolly hat. That made her laugh. She had some blue eye makeup on, but it had run a little because of the water. I had to resist the temptation to wipe it off her face with my thumb. She was wearing an amazing woollen brown coat, black boots and dark trousers.
Oh, yes. Nearly forgot. I wanted her. I wanted her very badly. I felt lightheaded and breathless. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her and hold her and tell her that I loved her. I wanted to hold her hand, walk around with her and show her off to everybody. I wanted her.
I feel awful.
I know that this, whatever this is, is utter nonsense. I do not for one minute think that this is love at first sight, and that tomorrow I will be telling Lorraine that we are all over. I know that this is all about my being on my own for the week, eating badly, over tiredness because I've not been sleeping and my worries about where Lorraine and I are going. This kind of thunderbolt does not happen to me.
I miss my friend Vicky. Lisabeth looked a bit like Vicky.
I am probably coming across badly. Fuck it. This is not me in a good light, but I promised to be honest on this blog.
How am I going to face Lorraine tomorrow, when I pick her up from New Street Station? My face will betray me. It's got to.
Monday, February 05, 2007
I really shouldn't make statements about when I will be blogging, and on what subject, because inevitably something always gets in the way and I end up letting myself down. Yesterday was a moot point.
Morning. I arrived early at Gay Tarquin's Hairdressing Emporium. I am the only man who frequents the establishment on a Sunday and I think that Gay Tarquin appreciates the eye candy (Me!). He's a nice guy. I like having my hair cut on a Sunday. I'm in and I'm out. Ooooh, err...
This time I had my hair cut by a lovely girl I had never seen before. Said lady didn't look a day over 10 years old, so it was very disconcerting when she started talking about her 6 month old baby. OK, then... She did a good job, though. It's probably the shortest I have ever had my hair. I look like Ray Winstone in that film "The Final Cut", but obviously sexier.
Afternoon. Went to see "Babel". More about that in a bit.
Evening. Purchased a Chinese takeaway, because neither myself nor Lorraine could be bothered to cook. Announced that I would give her the pleasure of my company for the first half an hour of "Starman", that was showing on Sky Cinema, and that then I would have to depart to write deep and important things on the blog. Of course I ended up watching the whole of "Starman", then the first hour of "Big Trouble In Little China" and then the double bill of "24".
By that time it was 11pm and I was knackered. Too late to blog or do anything. I went to bed.
TV. The opium of the masses. I don't know who said that, but they were right.
On Saturday I went to see "Notes On A Scandal".
Oh, yes... I did enjoy "Notes On A Scandal". It is very really black, very funny and sometimes over the top. Neither Judi Dench's or Cate Blanchett's characters are sympathetic (they both deserve what they get), although Bill Nighy, who is given little to do, is kind of saintly. It's a quite nasty and bitter film, but I really thought that "Notes On A Scandal" was wonderful and hilarious.
Was that the correct reaction? I really couldn't say. I suppose that as much as you try to avoid it, all of us take our cues from the audience that surrounds us. On Saturday the laughter started from a middle aged couple a few seats away from me. I joined in, so did others, and it carried on from there.
I've read a couple of mixed reviews and it seems that the critics were taking "Notes On A Scandal" all very seriously. They were surprised by the ambivalent tone and the fact that Judi Dench was playing such a horrible cow, but Judi Dench has often played horrible cow's. I'll include in that list her parts in "Mrs. Brown", "Shakespeare In Love", "Pride And Prejudice" and "The Importance Of Being Ernest". All cows and all horrible!
Great film. Really enjoyable.
On Sunday I went to see "Babel". It couldn't be more different from "Notes On A Scandal".
Four stories interlinked, different time frames, different settings. The stories are linked in ways that we can only guess at.
Two young boys play with a gun. A bickering American couple experience a crisis on a bus tour of Morocco. A Mexican woman attends the wedding of her son. A Japanese schoolgirl is desperate to lose her virginity.
Director Alejandro González Iñárritu has done this kind of multi-linked, multi-character drama before with "Amores Perros" (which I liked a lot) and "21 Grams" (which I didn't). I think that "Amores Perros" is probably a better movie than "Babel", but "Babel" does have a lot to recommend it.
It's hard going at times, and mostly very serious, but it's also beautifully constructed and very moving, especially in the Japanese sections. Great performances by Rinko Kikuchi, Adriana Barraza and (surprise?) Brad Pitt. In fact, I think that this is probably Brad's best performance since "Fight Club" and the first film that I have seen him in recently in which he looks his age. (He's 43. A couple of months younger than me. 1963 was a very good year...)
I did like "Babel" . Stef didn't. Stef said that he didn't care less about any of the characters. I did. I am right and he is wrong, so there! (Blows raspberry.)
"Babel" is not blockbuster fodder. It should be seen.
Lorraine is going away tomorrow to stay with her Brother. To cut a long story short, Lorraine's Brother's missus gave birth to her second set of twins a couple of weeks ago. Initially things were OK, but the twins were taken to hospital yesterday with some kind of virus. Certainly not life threatening, but bad enough for them to be kept in hospital. Their Mom is going to stay with them, so Lorraine offered to help as she had annual leave left over that had to be taken.
Lorraine will love it. Looking after children. The one thing that she really wanted in her life. The one thing that I never wanted to give her. The thing that started the whole of this sex business mess off.
Lorraine and I get on fine. We share this house. We share everything, except for a bed. There has been no comment about the fact that I am now in the front bedroom; no comment at all except for the bland, "It's time you changed your sheets" or "Don't forget to close your windows". It's as if we have slipped into just being housemates and everything that went on before her hysterectomy has been forgotten.
Perhaps I should just call a stop to this now?
No, I won't. Why? Because I love her and I have a pathetic hope that in the future we will somehow get back to how we were. We should talk, but talking only turns into an argument. I am really at a loss what to do. I think that this could carry on for years if I let it.
I will be alone tomorrow, but I am alone when Lorraine is here.
Not the time to think about it now. Bed time.
Morning. I arrived early at Gay Tarquin's Hairdressing Emporium. I am the only man who frequents the establishment on a Sunday and I think that Gay Tarquin appreciates the eye candy (Me!). He's a nice guy. I like having my hair cut on a Sunday. I'm in and I'm out. Ooooh, err...
This time I had my hair cut by a lovely girl I had never seen before. Said lady didn't look a day over 10 years old, so it was very disconcerting when she started talking about her 6 month old baby. OK, then... She did a good job, though. It's probably the shortest I have ever had my hair. I look like Ray Winstone in that film "The Final Cut", but obviously sexier.
Afternoon. Went to see "Babel". More about that in a bit.
Evening. Purchased a Chinese takeaway, because neither myself nor Lorraine could be bothered to cook. Announced that I would give her the pleasure of my company for the first half an hour of "Starman", that was showing on Sky Cinema, and that then I would have to depart to write deep and important things on the blog. Of course I ended up watching the whole of "Starman", then the first hour of "Big Trouble In Little China" and then the double bill of "24".
By that time it was 11pm and I was knackered. Too late to blog or do anything. I went to bed.
TV. The opium of the masses. I don't know who said that, but they were right.
On Saturday I went to see "Notes On A Scandal".
Oh, yes... I did enjoy "Notes On A Scandal". It is very really black, very funny and sometimes over the top. Neither Judi Dench's or Cate Blanchett's characters are sympathetic (they both deserve what they get), although Bill Nighy, who is given little to do, is kind of saintly. It's a quite nasty and bitter film, but I really thought that "Notes On A Scandal" was wonderful and hilarious.
Was that the correct reaction? I really couldn't say. I suppose that as much as you try to avoid it, all of us take our cues from the audience that surrounds us. On Saturday the laughter started from a middle aged couple a few seats away from me. I joined in, so did others, and it carried on from there.
I've read a couple of mixed reviews and it seems that the critics were taking "Notes On A Scandal" all very seriously. They were surprised by the ambivalent tone and the fact that Judi Dench was playing such a horrible cow, but Judi Dench has often played horrible cow's. I'll include in that list her parts in "Mrs. Brown", "Shakespeare In Love", "Pride And Prejudice" and "The Importance Of Being Ernest". All cows and all horrible!
Great film. Really enjoyable.
On Sunday I went to see "Babel". It couldn't be more different from "Notes On A Scandal".
Four stories interlinked, different time frames, different settings. The stories are linked in ways that we can only guess at.
Two young boys play with a gun. A bickering American couple experience a crisis on a bus tour of Morocco. A Mexican woman attends the wedding of her son. A Japanese schoolgirl is desperate to lose her virginity.
Director Alejandro González Iñárritu has done this kind of multi-linked, multi-character drama before with "Amores Perros" (which I liked a lot) and "21 Grams" (which I didn't). I think that "Amores Perros" is probably a better movie than "Babel", but "Babel" does have a lot to recommend it.
It's hard going at times, and mostly very serious, but it's also beautifully constructed and very moving, especially in the Japanese sections. Great performances by Rinko Kikuchi, Adriana Barraza and (surprise?) Brad Pitt. In fact, I think that this is probably Brad's best performance since "Fight Club" and the first film that I have seen him in recently in which he looks his age. (He's 43. A couple of months younger than me. 1963 was a very good year...)
I did like "Babel" . Stef didn't. Stef said that he didn't care less about any of the characters. I did. I am right and he is wrong, so there! (Blows raspberry.)
"Babel" is not blockbuster fodder. It should be seen.
Lorraine is going away tomorrow to stay with her Brother. To cut a long story short, Lorraine's Brother's missus gave birth to her second set of twins a couple of weeks ago. Initially things were OK, but the twins were taken to hospital yesterday with some kind of virus. Certainly not life threatening, but bad enough for them to be kept in hospital. Their Mom is going to stay with them, so Lorraine offered to help as she had annual leave left over that had to be taken.
Lorraine will love it. Looking after children. The one thing that she really wanted in her life. The one thing that I never wanted to give her. The thing that started the whole of this sex business mess off.
Lorraine and I get on fine. We share this house. We share everything, except for a bed. There has been no comment about the fact that I am now in the front bedroom; no comment at all except for the bland, "It's time you changed your sheets" or "Don't forget to close your windows". It's as if we have slipped into just being housemates and everything that went on before her hysterectomy has been forgotten.
Perhaps I should just call a stop to this now?
No, I won't. Why? Because I love her and I have a pathetic hope that in the future we will somehow get back to how we were. We should talk, but talking only turns into an argument. I am really at a loss what to do. I think that this could carry on for years if I let it.
I will be alone tomorrow, but I am alone when Lorraine is here.
Not the time to think about it now. Bed time.
Labels: Lorraine, Movies, Sex, Time
Friday, January 26, 2007
We decided to watch "Domino".
About 5 minutes in we decided that it was awful. About half an hour in Lorraine decided that she had had enough and went to bed. An hour in I finally gave up, turned over to the "Television X" free preview and had a wank.
I am on Lorraine's laptop. I have downloaded Microsoft and Norton upgrades. I have surfed You Tube. (The "Sunshine" trailer looks pretty good.) I will reply to comments in a minute and then I will go to bed and read my book for half an hour.
That was my Friday night. Kind of pathetic, yes?
About 5 minutes in we decided that it was awful. About half an hour in Lorraine decided that she had had enough and went to bed. An hour in I finally gave up, turned over to the "Television X" free preview and had a wank.
I am on Lorraine's laptop. I have downloaded Microsoft and Norton upgrades. I have surfed You Tube. (The "Sunshine" trailer looks pretty good.) I will reply to comments in a minute and then I will go to bed and read my book for half an hour.
That was my Friday night. Kind of pathetic, yes?
Labels: Computers, Lorraine, Movies, Sex
