Blue Saturday

getting harder to leave the house by the day

i got past this! i pulled some magic trick that didn't make me want to freak out at watching work suck the life out of me. don't know where that's gone, can't remember how i did it. clarity has been restored.

Good vibes homie.

made it out the door for another day of doing half my job - the immediate stuff, the personal interaction stuff, the looking after other people stuff I can do - when that isn't happening and I have to deal with the (metaphorical) piles of admin and record-keeping my brain just rebels, goes too custardy thick to know where to start, can't get motivated - I guess there's a glass half full side to this

I'm not even sad, just two dimensions shifted to the side of the one I'm in - wishing I could be an observing ghost, one of my long-term daydreams, an Oscar Wilde fairy tale phantom short of omniscience but incapable of touching what I'm watching. warmly pleasant dream of evaporation.

thanks co-ghost :)

file under one of the thread subtitles: "the quiet joy of navel-gazing"

wishing I could be an observing ghost, one of my long-term daydreams, an Oscar Wilde fairy tale phantom short of omniscience but incapable of touching what I'm watching. warmly pleasant dream of evaporation.

this has occurred to me too; sometimes the observing seems like the best bit of life

this is part of why i enjoy photography, and street photography in particular, so much: it's an excuse to observe without interaction

althought having said that i haven't had the mental energy to so much as pick up my camera in months so uh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i guess

lurking through life w/out every registering is the dream, right

oh for sure, i lurked here for a long time before finally posting

When shall I know whether ye have power, O Mazda and Right, over everyone whose destructiveness is a menace to me? Let the revelation of Good Thought be confirmed unto me; the future deliverer should know how his own destiny shall be.

klangspiel klangspiel tempranillo glowing round my brain

you don't have to type out every stupid mundane thought you have, Jim.

using realname when shit gets.... bleated?

typing out every stupid mundane thought you have is the essence of ilx

6,867 registered users 195,908 threads 12,868,980 messages

under the new GCSE system I'd score that a 5

I'm not sure if Noodle and Jim are separate people or not. I'm not even sure why I'm Jim and not James, the former being the ex's preferred use because she'd already known a James and he was a douche. irony.

but it's fun to choose yr own name. maybe I shd let Noodle take over.

that score was for darragh's wordplay btw

that ramble was like why didn't I revert to the name I had as a kid when the number 1 reason I started using the colloquial form isn't my number 1 reason any more - I don't feel strongly either way, but the name I use now feels like another character/mask somehow. and my mom and dad would never ever use it.

god dammit every mundane slight tinge of a hangover lonely bored thought

it's this or faking opinions about popular culture I guess

you don't look like a noodle

if I could look different I'd really really want to tho

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a9/bc/43/a9bc43cfe38146c5f2638a64d5980789.jpg

BIG WEEKEEEEEEEEEEEEND

SPRANG BREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK

SPRANG BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEK

ever lie around the house not knowing what the fuck to do with yourself and getting gradually more anxious because yr brain won't settle down?

this is rhetorical, i'll go bed

tfw you don't put on a pink shirt for the day because you don't want the additional social interactions this wd entail

recurring mental landscape that wants to throw myself into deep water, or deep sky, which becomes the ocean of booze, recurring daydream of immersion in something bigger and purer and stiller, something that muffles noises, something that absorbs all difference? I don't know, following that trail. too much blather around me, too much fear of stillness and silence. nobody knows how to sit.

I don't know what this means.

Everything that isn’t right you assume is your fault. Maybe it is. Definitely don’t think you’re responding appropriately to people when they come to you. Peering through irritable fog. I am supremely pointless. Perhaps everything is, but the rest isn’t my concern. Camus isn’t really cutting it for me right now, his crises feel too sunsoaked to be real. On some fundamental level I am a lousy human being, lousy meaning manqué, not self-attributing superheroic powers of evil, simply failure. Botched timeline. This surreptitious tip-tap into Word, then onto here, is as comforting as I can handle right now. For what it’s worth. Puisne.

I can't kick this feeling when it hits

Amid the fishing-like gear sit several buckets and pipes drilled with holes and stuffed with guts. These are called SADs, or shark attractant devices, and they are thrown overboard to bleed all night in the warm sea.

Take me to the dark
Oh god I get down on my knees
And I feel like I could die
By the river of disease

all I want

is to say, respectfully, regretfully, to friends and family

"I'm going away for a while. You won't be able to contact me, I won't be able to reply"

and then to hunker down, hermit-like as possible. get still. listen to not me, not voices. read.

"Sorry for misanthrope. It's not you, it's me."

Have never actually seen John Boorman's film Leo the Last, but apparently there's a scene where the main character puts up a sign saying, "I am NOT available". I frequently think about getting one of those signs.

maybe a t-shirt

forehead tat or gtfo imo

dewn't drop inn

a while back there was a state employee who was our contact for a funding contract, but every time my boss called him, it went to voice mail, with the message, "I'm retired! Yayyy!"

Have seriously considered following his example, even though I'm only in my 40s

the first proper full time job i had was with the Inland Revenue. i'd been there about 3 months when a memo went round asking for volunteers for early retirement. my boss didn't see the funny side when i put my name down.

Dream job: Outland revenue

http://siberiantimes.com/other/others/features/butterfly-invasion-hits-siberia-as-black-veined-white-goes-east/

black and white monday

http://www.yokai.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2013/06/034-mikoshinyuudou.jpg

confronted by somethink

going to mom's for a week and selfishly i'm gently anxious. Don't wanna be confronted with company right now. Thought about this last night - I don't think i'm depressed, but purposeless, blank. I don't know what to do with myself at all. Just lay around, read, flail at grasping what's missing. Don't know what I want. I want to be alone, or failing that I want to sit in pubs all day. But I don't crave booze, just that space. Any free space

flail at grasping what's missing.

christ this. it doesn't help that i feel my wits are essentially numb these days, but also extracting meaning has become glassy wall with no foot or handholds.

Modest proposal: arm train conductors so the notion of a quiet carriage can be appropriately enforced

is there enough booze in the world? gonna go n

cricket on TV, pub open, me with a dearth of ideas, I dunno, this country's not set up for sober adult entertainment

If it really was The Golden Age of TV, staying in might have had more appeal.

Mayo Roscommon throw in right now.

there's enough to do at home alone, could've stayed on the PlayStation all day, but that's not gonna cure this dumb restlessness that my booze addiction uses an excuse to get me out.

although you'd think i'd been to the pub enough to know that there are no potential soulmates hanging out in here

Mayo Roscommon is over already tbf