It was once explained to me (by a fellow called Dan, at once the best and worst staff member I ever had working for me) that everybody zips their anorak up for something. It might not always be something that is generally considered to be anorak-worthy (ie. geeky), but everyone has something that they are passionate, maybe even fanatical about.
Turns out that I zip my anorak up for quite a few things. The toy soldier thing is an obvious one; but then there’s also Formula One, and all the different bands that I listen to. And then there are systems.
You know, like having set ways of doing stuff; rules, routines, that sort of thing.
Maybe it’s not really an anorak zipping thing. Thinking about it, it probably has more in common with some of my OCD habits, like having to have the sun visor down whenever I’m driving (even at night), or feeling distinctly uneasy when eating with a knife and fork that don’t match.
The point is, I like to have rules and order. When I started this shitty blog thing, I made myself just one rule, and that was to always have a fresh post up by the following Monday.
I set this rule for a number of reasons. The first was to make sure that I did actually bother to update with some degree of regularity, since I am a seasoned procrastinator; and without a self-imposed deadline, chances are that I really would end up performing the Willard Foxton Manoeuvre. At the same time, I didn’t want to be forcing myself to write a post every day, as I seldom have very much to write about. Endless tales of how I sat around the house watching TV and painting toy soldiers in my underpants do not a good blog make.
The downside of only posting once per week is that some of the emotional content is lost. Looking back at the week just gone allows for a more measured and logical assessment. For example; on Monday, I felt okay; but on Tuesday, I was really angry with The Boy for some reason; and then on Tuesday and Wednesday I felt desperately unhappy. My memory is poor enough that the precise reasons for any of this are something of a mystery. Right now, all I know is that I am feeling quite drunk (unlike two days ago, when I first started writing all this gibberish…)
And herein lies the problem. For me, each post should be a single snapshot in time; not necessarily a tedious recollection of ‘what I done this week’, but an account of how I actually feel about stuff.
Meh. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being a bit emo about it all.
However. The rule has now been changed. I shall now have a MINIMUM of one post up by the following Monday. In the apparent absence of anyone else that I can speak to about all the various shit in my life that I find to be quite bothersome, I shall hope to find the process of blurting it out all across the intraweb somehow cathartic.
In the meantime… here’s what I done this week.
On Monday, I went up to The Inn On The Green with Sam, Charlie, Dozer and The Boy. After asking my housemates if they would be at all opposed to the idea of me keeping a couple of mice, I embarked on a tale of an Eyehategod gig that I went to some seven years ago, where I saw some guy trying to crowd surf knock himself out on the lighting rig in that splendidly low-ceilinged venue. And so animated was my storytelling, that I managed to headbutt my own pint glass in the process.
No, I did not spill anything, and no, the glass did not break; but I may have just added to my fearsome collection of drink induced scars.
Naturally, the next morning I swore that I would never drink again, and then invested in a mouse cage, some mouse food, some mouse-oriented stimuli, and a couple of mice.
They are both females; the one on the left is called Mata Hari, named after a Dutch exotic dancer whose lust for uniformed men eventually led to her execution in 1917 for suspicion of being a French double agent. The one on the right is called Mouse, because she is a mouse.
And then on Friday, I went out with Mr Dozer and got horribly drunk.