It ain’t half hot mum.

I feel quite anxious. Not over anything in particular, just, you know, anxious. It’s been like this for a couple of days now to the point that I find myself laying in bed worrying about just about anything. 

In other news I made chilli con carne with actual chilies, I say actual chilies, an actual chili, because not having used them before I thought I’d play it safe, it’s turned out quite well. It was somewhere between a medium curry and a pathia, so not particularly hot, but still with a nice warming burn. I think using a chili rather than chili powder gives it a more rounded flavour. I’m bloody impressed with it if the truth be told. 

First I fried off a large onion and two large cloves of garlic. Then browned the mince making sure it didn’t break up into chunks that were too small.To this I added a small bottle of red wine. When that was boiling I chucked in a tin of tomatoes, two oxo cubes, a generous amount of cumin and coriander and a chili. Finally I seasoned it with salt and pepper, chucked some kidney beans in it. just to be controversial, and let it cook for an hour before letting it cool and sticking it in the fridge overnight.  



I’ve decided that strippers are my favourite people. They’re honest with their lies, single minded, professional, beautiful, they can hold an intelligent conversation and they’re confident. Not to mention that they can make a guy feel like he’s king of the world. I’m sorta tempted to restrain myself by saying that it’s a business deal but let’s be honest: you get what you pay for in life and all relationships are basically business deals. I could have spent £80 or £100 or £200 on a date by the time you add in theatre tickets, dinner, drinks, taxis and not felt anywhere near this good but I spent £40 and I feel pretty damn good. For once, I had fun. 


On Women.

I just spent £40 to feel attractive. Gabriella was her name, she’s a stripper. I now have stripper crush and I know why. Even a woman who is supposedly into me can say “Well I suppose I’ll have to find some other British guy” and immediately we see the central female assumption: The guy I want or the guy I’m with is easily replaceable.

So I walk into the place and Gabriella dotes on me, she rubs against me, she kisses my cheek, she flatters me, she spreads her legs and is provocative and two realisations dawn: this is all fake and no woman who was genuinely interested in me would do this. To any woman I am so replaceable that it is not worth the effort to seduce me.

I think this is why I’m single; women have no problem saying “Be as I want you to be or I’ll find someone else” and my response is “accept me for me or fuck off” and they fuck off. As a man you realise that the only reason that you’re not easily replaceable is that you have money, you realise that this display of attraction is always fake, it’s always to get money out of you. No woman who really wants you treats you with the same kind of lust and desire that a woman who just wants your money treats you with. A woman who thinks she wants you is half arsed and lackadaisical about it, she knows that there are a ton of guys that want her, so she is indifferent about you.


Fuck off

I am quite irritable at the moment, I’m kinda at end of a manic episode and I find that biting my tongue is increasingly necessary and increasingly difficult. I don’t know if it’s me or what but it feels like virtually all my female friends are wibbling on about something or other and expecting emotional support. I find the line “Sorry but at the moment my mental illness deprives me of any sympathy, empathy or patience” generally provokes things to the point that I get snappy. 

I feel like sometimes, with some of my female friends, if I put before them a large red button and said “Please do not press this” they would press it, and then when a boxing glove popped out and bopped them on the nose they’d want an apology off of me. It’s like; did I not, out of concern for you tell you not to do something, which you then just did? Rage.

So I’m staying in today. I find that what I really want to do is avoid all noise, people, animals, life basically, and just read. 




Occasionally I feel like public property: I’m always to be on call and rested, attentive, smiley and happy and never busy having a life. I’m always ready for immediate emotional support, sound advice and whatever else is desired and if not then it’s okay to be ratty with me.