06.04.15 (Day 105)
I’m at home in contemplative mood. Contemplation and thinking in general are things I do a lot of and have time to do. I do it far too much and that’s part of my problem. I envy those less intelligent than me, who can sleep with themselves at night (Plant a subtle double meaning, me?)
I came home early as there was work to do at the house. I’ve done a bit of business today and I’m knackered. It is Sunday after all. Normally I’d still be having a coffee in McDonald’s at this time but I genuinely have a lot to do in preparation for a busy week ahead and there are too many distractions down there. Also, I need to get used to being without McDonald’s as in May, the Tonbridge one is closed for two weeks for refurbishment. Hopefully I’ll be in Canterbury by then though.
Should it happen, the move to Canterbury will be very much with mixed emotions, as although Tonbridge has caused me problems, it has become home again and I have a lot of new family here. But like so much else, things must move on.
My adopted brother and occasional housemate is in Tunbridge Wells tonight I believe, on food duty. Our usual division of labour dictates that he runs that errand while I do the deals and the housework. My adopted cousin Rhian is on holiday and my other adopted brother, Blue and niece (Jazz), I’ve simply not seen for far too long. Such is life when people like us move around a lot. Hopefully I can get the whole family together for the curry night planned at church at the end of the month. Mixed emotions again though, as that may be just before I move on.
Another thing which I wrote was misunderstood or simply not got. I plant lots of double meanings and credit people with a level of intelligence equal to mine to be able to read between the lines. It’s said in writing circles that you have to write below yourself but I don’t want to. Get me or stop reading (this is not aimed at my mum, who is a very intelligent woman: Hi mum). And I’ll not be censored but will instead continue to be cryptic and plant things which can be read in more that one way. This blog is part fiction, for fuck sake! People just don’t get it (or me), nor separate the facts. Or they just don’t think. They don’t think to check.
Including the plastic police / defective detectives, who’ve been on again, tearing me apart, jumping to false conclusions, not checking facts before making false accusations, turning others against me and not believing my true word, even when I offer to place proof before them. I have better things to do than to argue with those who place themselves in a position of moral superiority as they are deluded. They even question and doubt my religion: they are truly the evil ones, impeding my progress, driving me down and making my depression worse (and it was already diagnosed as chronic). These are the very people whom I pray can sleep at night, with themselves. I believe my prayers have already been answered.
My life is generally more fulfilling than their cosseted little unfulfilled existences. I’ve given the facts before, in the blog for all to see and documented proof of some of my claims is available upon request. Don’t question me. Or rather do, then I’ll provide the evidence. But then official documents will have been falsified won’t they, such is the conman that I am?
Yes, I sell things but they are not ill-gotten. I sell things for other people as I have the means and I take a commission to earn pocket money whilst waiting for the fuck ups of others to be sorted out. I do deals; I negotiate. I’m a salesman; a middle-man; a broker. I’m doing what I can. Leave me alone. Let me earn a bit and get on with your life rather than interfere in mine and try to deny me what I’m doing.
What I get financially supplements the little I get anyway. Were it not for my sidelines, I might consider crime. I get little else as I’m ill; signed off, waiting for the fuck ups to be sorted out. I’m doing nothing wrong. The police know that because they know me. I help them find missing young people who are friends of mine and they read this blog.
I suffer chronic depression – or Disthymia – because of all the reasons given in previous posts: loss of wife, family, friends, homes and business; muggings, robberies, beatings, throttling, bottling, burning, cutting… Yes, I’m a contributing factor but the reasons for my depression are as above and they contributed to my like of a drink (Alcohol Dependency Syndrome). Then there’s sleep deprivation and Spinal Disc Herniation.
HOW MANY MORE FUCKING TIMES DO I HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS SHIT!?
Let me carve out my own little thing while I remain in limbo and am on my own. Don’t fuck it up for me. Repetitive? I’m forced to be, as so are the accusations which I constantly have to address.
Moving on – as I keep trying to do – and talking of technology – which I wasn’t – as well as rediscovering Radio 4 via my Nokia Lumia 520 (acquired legitimately), Windows 8 phone, having spent a lot of time at home lately, I’ve been fiddling (not a euphemism) and have discovered the wonders of Nokia Mix Radio. In doing so though, I got so into it last night that I forgot about the clothes on our washing line outside and with my earphones in, I was oblivious to the rain. And I fell asleep. Well the rain, this morning’s wind and sun have contributed towards a very natural smelling change of clothes. I’ve got the next lot out there and I’m hoping for rain.
I may be slightly eccentric but during my latest brief stay in Tonbridge, I’ve observed that I’m positively conservative compared to many, in the way I dress, my mental stability and intelligence.
They like to keep it in the family around these parts.