So there was some kind of party or something last night. Someone was blasting out music to a large and noisy crowd and out of curiosity I had a look out of the window an as I did I noticed this light in the sky, a very bright light, about as bright as Venus, racing across the sky close to Vega. Immediately I rushed outside with the binoculars and had a good look at it, there were no running lights and it was moving at incredible speed: it crossed the sky from Vega to the horizon in just a few minutes.

Now, I’m not a great believer that aliens visit earth and I’m not saying it was aliens………..and actually it wasn’t. Afterwards I jumped on Stellarium and it lists it as “Dragon CRS-9” which is currently docked with the ISS. Sure enough about ninety minutes later it popped back up over the western horizon so what I actually saw was the ISS which is pretty cool.


Damn Yankees!

I dislike Ultimate General: Gettysburg’s scoring system. It’s horseshit. Right so, brass tacks: The Confederate Army is shit. Literally my nan with a slingshot could have beaten the whole Confederate Army in time for tea and medals. This means that you have to be a tactical genius, such as myself, to actually do any good with them.

Now, the scoring system is based on holding or taking key points on the battlefield, which is problematic. For instance: On the morning of day one I had breakfast. Literally I sat there and did nothing because I know that in the afternoon I have reinforcements coming and that they’re coming in behind the Union lines. So I’m not going to send my half trained bunch of southerners at them in a frontal assault and take 50% casualties, I’m going to wait until the reinforcements turn up so that I have them in a pincer. Naturally this is a loss as far as the computer is concerned.

So then the afternoon rolls on and, oh look, the Union army finds itself holding Oak Ridge still but nearly surrounded and facing annihilation but because it still holds Seminary ridge the computer thinks its the big bollocks. Which it isn’t. I’m just not in a rush; I don’t care that the Union holds Seminary ridge right now, I’m busy wiping whole divisions off its order of battle and when that is done, the army is reorganised, my artillery is in place, when I’m fucking damn well good and ready, then I’ll take Seminary ridge!


In an effort to cheer myself up I have acquired Top Gun, Total Recall and Clash of the Titans on blu-ray. I think my blu-ray player is possibly the best thing I’ve ever bought; I’m always watching films. The other thing I’ve bought is Apotheon  which is an awesome game done in Greek black-figure pottery style  and is massively entertaining, especially for a classics geek like me. I love all the actual Greek texts scattered throughout the game and the game play is amazingly fun.

Why are all the cute ones American………………Actually that’s not true, some of them are European.

I’m so fucking grumpy and I don’t particularly enjoy it. I suppose I’m feeling lonely and I think maybe it’s because my birthday is coming up and I hate my birthday: I always have depression around this time. I just don’t know why I’m doing things anymore; it all feels a bit pointless. Like today C talked me into buying a shirt, £55 worth of shirt which is a lot of money for me.

Well this is it: I really like the shirt and normally I’d be thinking to myself how good the shirt is and how it’ll go well with whatever and how good I’ll look in it when I’m out and at the end of this chain of thought are women. Only now I’m feeling like women don’t actually care and so actually it’s all a waste of time and money. I don’t even feel like asking Dakota to lunch tomorrow. I’m that fed up.

This is the thing with these things: you never know but from talking to female friends women seem to do all these really subtle things and nothing is ever accidental….I think it’s probably just female horseshit but anyway. So I’m sitting opposite Dakota and, as usual, she’s facing me by which I mean that she’s diagonally across the table from me but her body is facing me, her toes are pointing towards me, Jboy is sitting in front of her, so she’s almost side on to him. Right: that kind of body language, the kind of body language that, all things being equal, would cause me to think that I’m in there. We’re talking and all the eye contact is with me, this is normal when the three of us are together, the body language the eye contact, this is how it is. She has this vest top on and, right, let me explain the boob trick before I go on.

Dakota is busty but somehow, and I don’t know how, she can come out sometimes and she looks totally flat chested and has no cleavage and then other times she comes out and they’re huge. How this happens, I do not know. I know that she sometimes wears sports bras when she’s out. Anyway, on this night they were most definitely out and she kept leaning forward and normally I’m good at keeping eye contact, not looking but this is Dakota and I could not help myself for love or money. She must notice, she must know that this is going to happen when she puts a top like that on………so I’m thinking that this is planned………but then I feel like I’m reading too much in but then my female friends think, by a decent majority, that it’s planned. Obviously it’s just an attention grabbing thing but, I suppose I feel used.

I’m used for attention, emotional support, I’m always there when people need me and I don’t really feel that it’s reciprocated. There have been times over the past couple of weeks where if I sit down for long enough I pretty much zone out and end up getting kind of weepy over it all. Life just feels like one arse kicking after another and usually handling one arse kicking after another is something I do well but right now I just can’t. Now I’m asking when exactly the arse kicking stops and something good actually happens. I feel like too much of my life is good if nothing bad is happening; any day without disasters is a good day.


So I had/have a blog post about my geopolitical insights based on reading Livy but, alas, depression has robbed one of one’s faculties. Normal service will resume.

What’s on my mind now is this drama between C and I. We have this conversation: something happens in the department to someone else, C gets into a tizz about it: Why are they getting it, they don’t deserve it, the urge to email someone senior and complain about it. It’s a regular conversation and at 2am on Monday morning, having had four hours sleep, with depression and recovering from my cousin’s BBQ I was not really in the mood for having it for the umpteenth time, not really psychologically up to it.

I know that C is not in the best of places, but there’s nothing immediately wrong and nothing had actually happened to her, it’s just that something had happened to someone else, they’d got some post or other, and my whole thing is them getting a post is nothing to do with C and it certainly isn’t anything to do with me. Okay, things are not fair, I appreciate that; but the fifty millionth rehash of how unfair things are doesn’t do anything but drive us both mad, and I’m already mad.

So it ends with her saying, “And don’t even think of talking to me about tonight!” and I’m thinking, well, she said that she wasn’t coming tonight anyway because Dakota is going to be there and off the back of that I hadn’t invited her. C didn’t want to make Dakota “uncomfortable” which I take to mean that C isn’t all that comfortable around Dakota, although it’s also true that Dakota would be none too pleased either. Either way it’s not like I’d put any woman in the same room as Dakota after what happened with India. Generally I keep my female friends apart because, generally, when I don’t drama ensues.

I find myself totally perplexed by women recently. This implies there was a time previously where they made sense, so I’ll restate that thought: I am more perplexed than usual about women. There’s the situation with BM, the Dakota thing where the moment we’re alone she gets personal but won’t let me in the rest of the time, the ongoing thing with S and C……….On Friday we went for a drink and we’re sitting there totally chilled and she says, “Would you take a date to the pub?” and there was a couple by us so I thought that she was talking about them. I say that I wouldn’t and she said something like, “So why have you brought me here?”.

Naturally, this was totally unexpected on my part and so I said something like, “Sorry, is this a date?” and she responded with “What else would it be?” and then some statement about us being borderline in a relationship………….Like, maybe if there was sex involved we might be in a relationship. Oh and on top of all that fucking CM was in a right huff with me about something that happened four years ago with another female friend of mine that she can’t let go of.

You know what I think this is? None of these women actually even like me. Seriously. They don’t like me but there aware of all the other women and because of that they’re not entirely sure that I’m not worth having: they’re curious why there are so many women around; they want to know what other women see in me, so they’ll sort of jealously guard me and get in a huff if they see one another, but they would never touch me in a million years. Except S, who’s 99.999% lesbian……….work that one out!

So drama fucking ensued anyway. I didn’t invite C because C didn’t want invited if Dakota was going to be there. So we went to the cinema and Dakota puts a status up on FB mentioning this and then I get a message off C saying “haha, that’s why you didn’t invite me, the down’s is there”. C has this thing where she thinks Dakota looks like someone with Down’s syndrome. Needless to say I’m really not happy with this. I curtly responded that I didn’t invite her because she asked not to be invited and I’ve ignored her since.

I’m tempted to say that, actually, Dakota is someone I care about deeply and I don’t appreciate her being talked about in that manner with the suspicion that C will then say something about me choosing Dakota over her or something………. This is what I’m on about: one woman who wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole angry and jealous about another woman who wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole……..although, more on that later.

So yeah, I’m not happy at the moment.




On Knuckle draggers.

I see this quite often, it is, as they say, a thing: Some immaculately dressed, attractive woman, apparently normal in all respects, and then her boyfriend. A man whose vocabulary, such as it is, is blurted out, yelled across the room in the commonest of accents. His jaw permanently a little open, his arms hanging free as he walks with a gaze both devoid of life and focused on some far distant object as he bimbles down the street in his Armani t-shirt, scruffy shorts and dirty trainers. Invariably everything he says is prefixed with “Oi mate” and suffixed with “know what I mean?”.

This man is far more attractive than me.


I think I’m at this stage where I’m really getting comfortable with looking in the mirror and saying, “Look, you’re just the least attractive guy on the planet. No woman could ever seriously want you, give up”. I take here as my measure of attractiveness the guys that manage to get into relationships, get married, have kids, all that.

I don’t want to hear that I’m attractive anymore; I don’t want to be told that I, in some way no matter how small, resemble that guy. What I want is honesty, I want women to say “Yes, that guy is far more attractive to me than you will ever be. You are nothing like that sex god of a man”. That’s it. I’ll be happy with that. Tell me whatever you like about me, be as harsh as you want, but don’t bullshit me, don’t try and make me feel better, don’t try and explain things. All I want to hear is what I know: Life is absurd.

Don’t tell me that in some way life actually makes sense.

On Bullshit.

Actually, thinking about it, my writing is a lot like the semi-autobiographical American writers of the forties and fifties: Henry Miller, Saul Bellow, those kind of people. I’m not going to say that I’m influenced by them but I will say that I feel that they opened my eyes to literary possibilities and horizons that I hadn’t considered before.

I want to write a serious novel, whatever that is, and these guys show that a serious novel doesn’t have to be something like Steinbeck, for instance: it doesn’t have to be about some great social issue, it can just be about life. That said because I am drawing on my experiences of mental health issues and just what it’s like to be male and bipolar in late modernity I feel that I am actually touching on a social issue since mental health care is topical at the moment.

Ideally, though, I’d have liked to have written more like Camus, something philosophical and more deeply intellectual, but I think that maybe this is a project for when I’m older. Again, having said that, because I am a bit of an absurdist I feel that my writing has taken on a philosophical edge.

It’s coming along so slowly though. I don’t mind this so much; I figure that as long as I keep going I’ll finish one day and the other thing is that I feel like shit at the moment but when I’m better I’ll be more productive.