Something for the Weakened

Archive for September, 2005

Phrase of the Century

September 30th, 2005 by

“I’m going to make you sweat Marmite!”

Yes it is. Beat it if you can.

Victim of Fashion

September 28th, 2005 by

I’ve accidentally bought some flares.

What’s that all about?


September 21st, 2005 by

Normal service is resumed! Bit of a blip there as I was going back onto the rails, but now with the reinstatement of alcohol and nicotine into my system I think I can return to what previously resembled coherence. Now if only I had something to say. Okay, here’s one. Earlier today I was somewhat confused to walk past a man who appeared to be wearing a glove puppet. His arms were folded and one of them seemed to be elbow deep in something particularly furry. I stared in disbelief as he walked towards me with the mottled brown fuzz apparently covering his arm. Possible explanations raced through my mind. Yet another children’s entertainer who’d taken a leap off the deep end after one too many five year olds had screamed in his ear? He looked too old to be a student so it couldn’t be some sort of initiatory prank – though if he had been, forcing someone to wander around with a glove puppet on seems like a pretty weak one. At least if they’re wearing it on their hand. As we passed one another, I looked closer.

Turns out he was holding a small dog.

At least I hope he was holding it. Huuurrggh.


September 15th, 2005 by

This has to be the longest I’ve been without any barmy juice for many a year. I doubt that I’ve managed four days utterly sober since my hermit years (something I’m sure I’ll talk about properly on here one day). Still getting flashes of cigarette desire every now and then, but these are getting fewer and fewer. Even managed to get a proper nights sleep last night. I feel almost rested.

The experiment has been a success so far.

Tomorrow I go to the pub.

Then it all goes to pot.

Siebzig Stunden

September 14th, 2005 by

Approaching the seventy hour mark. Head clearing. Anger waning. Haven’t considered murder in hours. Body coming to terms with absence of booze or nicotine in it’s system. Odd feeling – not sure I like it. Empty. Finger still orange. Might scrub with cheese grater. No longer feel like I need a cigarette.

I fucking want one though.

Chilly Xmas Bird (4, 6)

September 13th, 2005 by

Didn’t sleep last night. Brain seems to be functioning, but refuses to turn itself off without the sweet narcotic effects a cigarette would bring. Tired yet unable to sleep. Nearly dropped off at work couple of times. Managed to shake myself awake. Have to keep busy lest I accidentally nod off too early and wake in the middle of the night. Limbs no longer wobbly, just aching now. Not been as angry as I’d thought I would be. Right forefinger is particularly orange. Shouldn’t be. Might scrub it.

Remembered I’ve asked someone to bring me back some duty free fags from Spain. Arse.


September 12th, 2005 by

It looks as if I’ve accidentally stopped smoking again. It happens from time to time – wake up in the morning, all tobacco smoked the night before. Decide that it’s time for another attempt at being healthy. This can then go one of two ways. Either half way through the day my need for nicotine becomes enough that I would happily kill for it and I toddle off to buy myself some fags. Or, as has happened so far on this occasion, I stick with the blood lust and keep it bubbling just beneath the surface. This leads to the intriguing feelings of your limbs going a little wobbly while invisible spiders run up and down your spine. On the inside. The plus side is that I’ve got my rage back! At this time I’m yet to tame it to the extent that I can push it in certain directions. Currently it’s simply a relentless, directionless loathing of the world and all its contents. Because you won’t give me cigarettes. Cunts. It does all tie in nicely with the detox that I had proposed to myself as a good idea (for the sake of my liver as well as my bank balance) for this week. So I don’t even have the crutch of booze to lean on! I half expect to be back on everything tomorrow, but I just think that my will might just hold out.


A Pathetic

September 10th, 2005 by

Weekends are supposed to be faintly exciting. I think I’ve slipped into too much of a routine these days. Most of the daylight hours are spent in bed, reading, listening to the radio, sleeping or a combination of these. Anything I need to do in town I can as easily achieve on a week day. The evenings either revolve around liquor or more sitting in bed. I should try and do something, but apathy (both my friend and nemesis) won’t let me. Motivation that’s what I need, but, unlike my capacity to hate, I’ve never had much of a reserve of this. I need someone to tell me what to do.

Tell me.

More Speed, Less Hate

September 9th, 2005 by

I seem to have lost some of my capacity for hate. It used to take me seconds to build up an extreme dislike of something or someone, leading to my brain being consumed with thoughts of it’s or their destruction. This full steam of loathing seldom ever lead to anything, except an occasional impotent rant, but it was nice to know that I could provoke myself into such fits of inner rage (the occasional outbursts normally occurred in locked rooms or isolated fields).

Over the past week or so I’ve been trying to tap this well again, for the first time in a few years. You know what? I think it might have run dry. The possibility that I’ve mellowed over the past few years fills me with no small feeling of dread. What next? Slippers? Though a pipe could be . . . NO! Banish these thoughts! At the moment I’m considering it a brief aberration caused by something that my subconscious doesn’t yet think worthy of as much anger as I’m attempting to channel into it. Yet. I’ll keep you posted if I start coughing up blood from trying to suppress these things. I did come up with a haiku about it, but am terrible with syllables, so will keep it to myself.

AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!! What have I become?!?


September 7th, 2005 by

I’ve been given a rape alarm.

It was actually bestowed upon me a couple of months ago, but it’s only just occurred to me how odd a thing that actually is. I mean, it’s me. Obviously I’m not the hardest man (or woman) in the world, but I’d like to think I could handle myself to some degree if attacked. Obviously my employers don’t aggree with this and feel that I need to alert someone whenever I’m imperilled.

But it gets worse. It’s not even my alarm alone. I have to share it! With the chunky fellow I work with. What if we were both being raped at the same time? Surely the person with the alarm is going to recieve assistance first, so half way through an attack it’s quite likely we’d then start attacking one another, which I can only imagine would make a bad situation worse.

So as we’re forced to share this until someone fixes our bloody door, I would like to cordially request that no one comes in to my workplace and sexually assaults me, unless I’m standing near to the Christmas decoration hanging off the pin board. Or if it’s a pretty lady. That I might allow.