Plan for Life

Go left at the next junction.
Go straight ahead until you get to something interesting.
Don't dwell.
Keep on going.
Turn right.
Keep going straight until you get there.

Going Backwards

I threw a stone, I threw it really far, it just soared into the air.

I watched it shrink as it swam straight ahead into the sky.

What a throw.

It disappeared onto the horizon. I stared, quite amazed.

That's got to be an Olympic size throw, that one.

I threw a stone, I threw it really far, it just soared into the air.

I watched it shrink as it swam straight ahead into the sky;

Only to find that it hit me in the back of the head.

Home?

You know, I often find myself wishing I could go home. How funny is that?
What's it all about though?
When I lived in Norwich though, I'd find myself thinking... I want to go home.
Problem is, I don't think Home really exists any more. Maybe this is something that everybody experiences at some pint in there life, or maybe not, maybe I'm just so stuck in a rut of sentimental bullshit that I find myself lost more often than not.
I will be looking for the comfort. I look for everything familiar and the people who I like the best.
I look for friends, both real and inanimate. I look for Sirius. I look for my 'tools' - my paints, my pencils, my papers and inks. I want my duck-feather duvet and comfy pyjamas. I want to understand what makes home, home. I want to be there and not feel like I'm missing something significant. There's just something missing where-ever I go.
So maybe that's what people deal with all the time, just a space, a black hole... that emptiness that knows how incomplete we are.
When I was in Norwich I thought that 'home' meant the family home, and It would all feel 'right' once I was here. I am so wrong though; this feels less like home than the Hotblack Road. I suppose Sirius is the anchor at the minute, which means I'm on a boat now, hopefully finding home. You big loser.

Is there anybody there? Life and Death

Well, my my, hasn't it been a tumultuous few months?

How the hell my grandma is still alive, is beyond me...
hip replacement, heart attack, brain damage, broken wrist, stroke - all in a couple of months. If she was in the UK, I'd say she might be trying to get some of that money she's paid in tax back through the NHS. But... we're in France, so healthcare costs a fortune and I'm pretty sure she's had more money in pensions compared to what she paid in during her working life....
LOGANS RUN LOGANS RUN LOGANS RUN. What an awful film... I can see the sensibilities.
Now, don't think I'm hideous, it's just hard work and she wouldn't be alive / at home if it wasn't for all the support she's had from the everyday visits at hospital to her constant care that she now needs at home. She's doin' all right.
My brother on the other hand... I REALLY effin (can I swear on this?) hate him, that selfish bastad can rot in hell.

Why the hell I didn't kill myself, well that's beyond me to.

I didn't, of course, probably because that would be admitting defeat, and I'm not quite ready for that. Don't get me wrong though, I'm not afraid to die - I just hope it's by my terms. I don't want to be an old old ancient wreck of a human, pissing in my nappies and not being able to wipe my arse on my own, but I'd be pretty pissed off if someone declared a nuts sort of nuclear war and I had to die like that. I've always (don't know why) envisioned myself dying or pretty much dying, in a horrific car crash, I haven't ruled out hanging myself either. Don't think I fancy shitting myself though, that kinda puts me off - I don't want my last few dying seconds to be obscured by the stench of my bowels opening and my insides dropping out, down my leg onto the floor beneath me.

Have you ever seen Where the Wind Blows? (it's a graphic novel too) I think that is the scariest thing you could ever show your children. That's the horror movie that haunts my child-hood memories.

Anyway, James May awaits...