Hopelessly confounded...

I don't have a specific topic I want to right about per se...

Well, I have ideas, several of them, nothing specific comes to mind at the moment.

I've decided to give up drinking after becoming embarrasingly drunk on saturday and getting thrown of Rebecca's bar by a fucking frenchfrog bouncer, I don't really remember much. I'd had a lot to drink, and vaguely recall stealing some revolting green cocktail.

I wandered home, drunk, rambling. Which seems to be now a recurring theme in our increasing volatile 'relationship.'

I've been working a lot lately, more than I'd like; but I need the money.

The shifts are ridiculous the people are disgusting, and I'm becoming more and more filled with disdain. I remember when I first had the idea to start this blog. It was to help me manifest success into my life through documenting my ideas, plans, hopes and dreams.

I suppose lately it's been the exact opposite. A catalogue of misadventures, angst, a record of my incessant debauchery and my seemingly unending appetite for self destruction; as I become more of a Henry Chinaski than a Matthew McConaughey.

It strikes me as bizarre how this is happening. I used to be such a control freak; and I haven't even mentioned that my mother has found my vaporizer pipe and what she will obviously presume to be weed. Strangely, she hasn't said a word. Perhaps she will just treat this as another piece of corroborative evidence as to my precarious mental state.

After I'd taken a couple of days off, I'd thought about posting my 'new years resolutions preamble' for next year.

I think the top will have to be take control. Nay, that starts now. Perhaps it would be better said that 2008 should be a year of maintaining control.

I'm self aware enough to realise that I am obviously becoming increasingly addicted to drunken drama, and it's something I very much have to stop.

My thinking is if I don't cut our ethyl alcohol, due to the way I'm using it as a form of 'inner game' substitute, (really, no precisely accurate word comes to mind) it's only a matter of time before I become fully dependant on it for my 'state', piece of mind, drama fix, et al.
Or in a worst case scenario I do something extremely stupid and end up seriously hurt or hurting someone.
It really wouldn't be farfetched to think such thoughts as stupidity, whilst under the influence is something which is now fully manifested and congruent.

I'll record the rest at a later time. I'm going to read now as a way of getting 'outside of my head'.

Perhaps that last sentence will make a good beginning for tommorows piece as I completely psycoanalyse myself and shred away the opaque layers of my ego and 'personality', which are once more becoming dangerously intertwined, like an onion.

Whatever.

Later.

-Michael

Apt...

It's appropriate that my last blog two days ago should be called slack attack. As for the last two days I have suffered from unenviable inertia. In fact I would dare say, that this is a level of idleness I have never achieved before.

I have done things I shouldn't, but pretty much nothing I should.

Highlights of the past few days include:

-Doing fuck all.

-Getting a new phone.

-Wandering around a nightclub trying to self-amuse in the most hopeless manner possible, by approaching groups of girls and launching into a rambling spiel about my phone that would have actually put my most hangover, lacklustre day of selling when I worked as a telemarketer to shame. Especially considering that last night I wasn't trying to sell fucking BT Total Broadband, I was half-arsedly trying to get laid.

-Laughing at myself for being blown out so many times, getting bored of talking to girls in a more traditional manner, going over to them, clawing at their forearms and pretending to perform cunnilingus on my phone.

It was a pretty droll night to say the least, and all I can do is laugh at myself.

My friend The Butcher returned from his holiday in Dubai today, I bought an aerobie, and we went to the park and threw it around. It was actually quite brilliant. If you own an aerobie you will be somewhat aware of why it was so brilliant. If not, I suggest you buy one. My sheer laziness is unfathomable. I can't motivate myself to go take a shit, nevermind discuss the intricasies of aerobie throwing.

We drove around for a bit, we were talking about banging girls and then Butcher said something I found interesting ''When I'm shagging a girl, I'm just trying to get off myself, I don't really care whether she does'' or something along those lines, whereas I still actually care somewhat about getting the girl off... it just made me think about the whole Entertainer guy/Sexworthy guy variation. I think I may post about this on RSDnation tommorow. As I'm curious as to how far the whole self-amusement sexworthy guy thing goes.

I dyed my hair black this evening, and am saddened at the demise of my beloved mohullet. :( it was a very glorious haircut. Light years ahead of its time.

I texted Rebecca a variation of Jeffy's weeping Air Supply phonecallback technique, because I'm lazy and want to get laid by doing as little work as possible. It seems to have worked somewhat. I'm not assuming anything on that one.

I had the following conversation with my friend on the topic of my myspace blog over messenger:

Mark says:
whats your secret lovers bf like
Michael says:
he is very tall and good looking, and well spoken
Michael says:
and a complete and utter pretentious cock
Mark says:
lol dear me
Mark says:
what did u say to him
Michael says:
well at first, I was very friendly and sociable, and tried my utmost to find commonalities and identify with him, however I just found his overintellectualising bullshit annoying, his pretentiousness irritating and the conversation to be a complete anti climax, similar to a handjob from my 'secret lover'
Michael says:
I can't precisely recall the topics discussed or any of the intricasies of the conversation, I do however recall him being very annoyed when I said to 'secret lover' I was going to fuck her? or I intended to fuck her
Michael says:
-shrugs-
Mark says:
lol, so he was very intelligent then
Michael says:
he said he'd read Crime and punishment and he seemed very opinionated on political matters, whereas I have never read more than the first two pages of Doestevsky, and battle a most inherent indifference towards politics
Michael says:
make of that what you will
Mark says:
is Bex in anyway like him?
Michael says:
no, but I do hear he has a massive cock... one time she mentioned the ginormity of his phallus, which prompted me to warn her : ''if you mention his cock once more, I will get you pregnant and then punch you in the stomach with a hammer''

Okay, that's the last two days ''highlighted''. I'm gonna shoot off because my intestines are rumbling and look forward to a day of... whatever. Tommorow.

Adios.

-Michael

'Slack attack'

It's been an unusual sort of day really.

I'm currently reading Junk Mail by Will Self, I have begun reading the chapter 'Slack Attack' which is on the topic of idleness... unsurprisingly.

Never have I identified with a piece of writing so much.

I finally finished Factotum last night. It took me eight hours to motivate myself to read twenty pages. It was hilarious though, especially the part where Hank Chinaski drunkenly holds his boss captive in a room, whilst telling him how the hotel should be run.

Actually from that book, I also learned something I kind of already knew:

''That's when I learned that it wasn't enough to just do your job, you had to have an interest in it, even a passion for it.''

It kind of puts my 'Whores of Amsterdam' post in perspective.

I might just stay up all night and completely catch up on my reading.

Or I may not, cause I be lazy.

I kind of want to post/rant about how Rebecca has totally fucked me off, and out of sheer bitterness and spite posted the following on myspace in the hope that preferably her boyfriend will see it:

''Damn, dude, I was on one on monday night.

I meet with my 'secret lover' at 5:30 in town, we started drinking at The Lambton Worm. Ended up going along to that new bar Porterfields. Pretty decent. At some point, I think it's a good idea to drink treble whiskeys. I'm up on some wild shit by this time.

We go to the Buskers night. I'm so keyed up on whiskey that I decide it makes total sense for me to start hitting on a nerd girl. I mean, hey, it's only my 18 year old 'secret lover' I'm with!

So I walk over to nerd girl. "Yo," I say to myself, "I shall pull this girl..." So I start talking to her. I'm uttering completely unthought out sentences, me attempting to convince the girl that I'm a bigger douchebag than her? (!) ostensibly because "I have stupid hair," waving my arms about in the air, gesturing in an attempt to further explain that "I'm a level 12 douchebag and a sexual predator." God only knows why, but she's laughing.

My secret lovers boyfriend arrives, with company. I'm like ''Oh hi, I'm Michael, I know your girlfriend'' where in the back of my mind I'm thinking yea, I made her squirt 3 times last thursday.

For some reason, he doesn't suspect a thing, and I drink more, and everythings cool. But then I suppose I said something offensive (!). They leave.

Secret lover girl is walking away, I storm forth and claw her back. Her boyfriend walks off angrily.

Some kind of argument ensues.

I suddenly realise, I should just walk off and I leave. On the way back home I am having a full conversation with myself. All complete nonsense.

I'm asking myself if I would rather be an inuit or an indian, or something. I get home go into my garage and proceed to vaporize a lot of weed. Nice, Michael. Around the sixth rip, I fall back confused. I puke at 5:30, copiously. On a toy shark.

I lost the girl. Still have the toy shark.

Overall, I didn't enjoy monday night, but I think evenings such as these can be essential for character building. Or something like that. -shrugs- whatever.

I'm going to eat some ice-cream and go back to sleep.

In a bit.

-M''

A severely cutting, slightly over dramatised account of monday night.

I'm vindicating myself here on the basis that anyone who will invite their boyfriend and fuck buddy to one place in away kind of deserves what they get.

I wish I could completely believe what I've just wrote.

No more night-time planz.

-Michael

30 day mission...

I'm thinking one of my biggest problems in life is drinking. It's expensive, bad for your skin, and has been involved in the destruction of my last two relationships. It was also a major contributer to what a fat fuck I used to be.

So, I'm deliberately picking the most difficullt time of the year to break this habit, because I imagine it will be far more character building.

I'm finally going to start researching and applying for jobs in Spain too.

I'm going to begin rebuilding again, as I have such a disgusting appetite for self-destuction.

Next girl who comes around the corner, I will make her fully aware of my ambition to stop drinking.

-Michael

Buskers night destruction; you fucking love it!

Okay, so I was fucking on one last night.

I'm actually terrified I could have jeapordised my relationship with my fucking "secret lover" wild cat, minx of desire.



Why the fuck is she seeing me though if her boyfriend is overly spectacular...

Is it because I'm good looking?

Is it because of my de rigeur sex moves?

My personality?

My use of language?

My body?

Or is it because I'm just convenient.

Who knows. As Tyler says it's best just to live your life and assume absolutley nothing.

One things for certain, her dode boyfriend wasn't particuarly bedazzled by my presence. Not that I could give a fuck. I just felt drunk, and he was a pretentious overly opinionated cock.

I was just trying to be friendly and sociable whilst at the back of my mind, I had his girlfriend almost cumming from kissing a few hours prior.

It's kind of weird, it's like I've downloaded myself off of the fucking internet. Almost.

I've gone from some fat chode



brutally lets just be friendzed. After a series of disasterous attempts to convert this friend into a girlfriend, where I must have made every mistake in the fucking book... I decided enough was enough, started hitting up the gym and underwent a DIY core personality, fundamental beliefs and body transformation to turn myself into:

Well, I ws going to post a nice picture of me and the girl, she took. Apparently she doesn't want to speak to me ever again eh. So I won't.

I digress, this is an ongoing project, but to get from that fat picture above, the whole process took less than a year.

Fortunately for me, I found a few sources of inspiration, completely digested all of the information and knowledge I could, and boom I'm not a chode.

I'm also suspended from work on full pay after writing a thoroughly preposterous letter concerning being sent home from work for having fucking stupid mohullet hair.

Dear Angela

I am perturbed at my recent sending home, and wish to write a rebuttal, as I don't believe I had a sufficient chance to explain my case.
I came into work on the friday evening in order to buy black hair dye, however, the warning on the back of the box says it is dangerous to use if your scalp is somewhat irritated, which is the case with me; as it took the hairdresser multiple painful hours in order to get the colouring of my hair so light, what with my hair being so dark and all.

The precise words on the box of the hairdye:

Do not use product at all if:

-you have already experienced any reaction to colouring products.

-you have a sensitive, irritated or damaged scalp.

I personally fall under both categories.

Also, if I was to cut my hair, which I'm admittedly reluctant to do so, as I believe it personally to be very beautiful and a dynamic representation of my core personality and self-esteem, rather than for simply di rigeur: it would be most likely expensive.

As is the case, that I take great pride in my hair, and my general all around appearance these days in particular, (good healthy diet, and plenty of exercise, aswell as plenty of supplements from Holland and Barret, such as spirulina, probiotic berry powder, omega 3 fish oil, digestive enzymes et al to maintain a lean physique for example) it would require an appointment with one of the most glorious salons in Sunderland or the surrounding area, these are very very difficult to get on a weekend at short notice indeed. I would boldly go as far as to say impossible.

I was disheartened your attitude to my hairstyle was so truculent, I do not believe it to be a rebellious haircut, yes you may consider it to be unorthdox, but this is more pertaining to it being an invention of myself and not one that has been duplicated from outside sources; and thus I do not believe it constitutes a malfeasance.

It is a rather simplistic haircut really, short with a blonde stripe running down the middle, it has not in my experience offended anyone. The general consensus on my hair is that it is glorious indeed. One maiden who I served within the duration of my shift last thursday even complimented it, verbatim: ''You have nice hair...'' and in all honesty it really is homologous to a lot of hairstyles within the ASDA community.

Hopefully you would agree, that my hair isn't too bad, and doesn't make me look like a kohlrabi which would be far more offensive for the consumption of our humble customers.

I am aware that you are rather malleable and I respect and admire that greatly, such is why I have taken the time to constuct a cogent letter to try and display my opinions on this matter using the full extent of my lexicon and proper syntax in order to put my case forth fairly and clearly.

Would it not be feasible, to let me wear my hairstyle as it is? Especially as it is the time of year where one requires the money to buy others pleasant gifts and indulge in a glass of fine mead with friends. It really isn't completely fragrant.

However, I think my main concern is mainly being short of pay in the festive season is enough to make anyone feel emasculated and somewhat of a plebian.

I hope you can have empathy and I embolden you to treat this case with a level of concientious sympathy rather than condemnation, so I can attend my next shift without animadversion, for I am completely effeted in this situation. Fortunately it is not a feeling I am too unfamiliar with, growing up as a young man in an absurd world.

Anyway, thankyou for your time.

Yours sincerely

Michael Lane

My life is ridiculous at the moment.

I really have to find some kind of balance, some kind of stability, karma, some kind of lasting rather than temporary sanity, whatever.

I was having the argument with Rebex as I was writing this, and it completely reiterated everything in the previous sentence.

Perhaps the most terrifying thing is, when I started spending time with her I really hated her. I just wanted some kind of company to pass the time of day by; now I have grown to know her, we have a disturbing amount in common. The old adage again, you don't attract what you want, you attract what you are.

I fear I may just miss her and her stupid fucking 18year old ways. Or maybes not.

I'm sure I have stuff to do.

-Michael

I miss my friend Butcher who is sunning it up in glorious Dubai, and as I write this last sentence, the downtempo tunes of Ulrich Schnauss fill the air. Everything is going to be okay.

Drunk...

Okay, so I'm very drunk, so I shall type this as a Joyceanesque stream of consciousness ramble.

So I've been seeing Rebecca who's my 'secret lover' wild cat minx of glory who I've made squirt 3 times... she has a boyfriend called Dan who is much taller and better looking than me, yet I still relentlessly pull her with consummate ease using my natural super player powers which I learned some of which off the internet off of fucking Jeffy of RSD.

Now her boyfriend, he thinks I was trying to kiss her in the bar we were in, however this wasn't the case whatsover, I merely informed her of my desire to fuck her brains out, in pretty much exactly those words. Unless he heard those words, I don't see what his fucking problem is.

I drunkenly sent the lyrics of Purple Rain to her... which may be stupid, but I'm going to trust David fucking Shade on this one, and go on a hunch and say that a girl won't get rid of a guy who can make her squirt THREE times in a fucking night.

However, we shall see. Because on Projectglory, we're only interested in PROVEN facts.

LOL third person, very douchey.

Tick, tick, tick

Check back here for the results, same bat time, same bat place.

-Michael

Today is a magical day

Just like every other day, today is magical. I ate cereal, drank coffee and lots of biscuits and listened to heart rendering love songs play on the television.

I'm trying to motivate myself to finish the last 20pages of Factotum by my hero Charles Bukowski. I'm also quite saddened although I'm fully aware at how preposterous it is to be saddened by someone saying that they're discontinuing their blog.

I really liked reading this guys opinions on stuff, and some of it was really inspiring.

''Nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain...''

I wrote the dude a highly flagrant piece of prose as a comment on why he shouldn't discontinue his blog. However upon reading it, it will probably have the adverse effect of making him definitely want to rape his blog down to the ground.

Dude will be like, woah, I really have some complete fucking weirdos reading this shit.

Seriously though, I'm aware I'm rambling because it's one of those fucking winter days.

Best line on his entire blog for all of the fucking gold in there: ''If you do that again, I'm gonna get you pregnant and punch you in the stomach with a hammer...''

I know you really shouldn't laugh at things of this nature; but a repressed laugh is the best laugh of all. Or at least so they say.

Ugh I'm writing completely hyperactive and sound like a fucking tosser.

I'm gonna go smoke some herbal psyhadelic shit to chill out.

[I don't even want to take credit for how bad this blog must read :(]
-M