Untitled.

8929399302_5b10da7eb2_qThat exists because i couldn’t be bothered to name this blog. To be honest, i really don’t have anything to say, but i’m gonna sit here until i type this shit out.

It’s Monday night, 22:17, i have work tomorrow. I get to wake up at 06:10, and sit on a bus for an hour, usually asleep. Yes i’ve travelled on London’s public transport for so long i’ve mastered the art of sleeping on it, without the myoclonic twitching or with my head tilted back so my mouth lulls open and i look like a twat. Yes, i can sleep on a double decker bus at morning rush hour. It helps that i can do this with music playing from my iPhone, loudly, into my ears. It helps to block out the usual travel bullshit. I used to read my kindle, but now i just sleep. Hey, it’s an extra hour or so of shut eye. I also get to stand up for ten hours watching people spend ridiculous money on shoes. I work security in a women’s show boutique. When i say “I work security“, what i really mean is, i’m a security guard. Yep that guy in the black suit who looks all seriously all the fucking time. I look serious because i’m trying to figure out if you’re thinking about stealing something. I wear cheap shoes that hurt my feet, and earn just enough to get me through the month. Even with my insatiable book addiction. I got a lot of books.

All this starts the moment i go to sleep. Because when i do that, i can no longer do anything else. I just lie unmoving, doing nothing until my iPhone tells me to wake up (Alarm). Why is the iPhones alarm snooze set to nine minutes? I mean, why the fuck is it nine minutes, why not ten minutes… Ten is a normal number, right? Nine is odd.

I want to stay home and read. I just finished a book. I love that feeling of finishing a good book, it’s a special kind of satisfying. Then i look at my book collection (Addict remember, so i got a lot to look at) to decide what to read next. I’ve gone with ‘Red Moon‘ by Benjamin Percy. I know nothing of this book, i just though the cover looked cool. It really is a cool cover. But nay, i have to waste time doing nothing all day to earn enough fucking money to continue working. It’s odd that work works that way, you work a job, to earn money, so you can continue to work that job. Travel money and food money is something like £140 a month. That’s £60 for travel and £80 for food. Roughly.

I travel on the bus, the cheapest choice. £2.80 a day. Travelling on the tube, London underground, would double that to £160 a month, a monthly travel card would be £167 [actually, it would be more then that even. Because I’d still need to get buses to and from the tube station. So it’s more like triple the cost]. Food is £2.79 a day. One bottle of full fat coke, and two tracker bars, chocolate not peanut. I can see some of you trying to do the math. I kind of rounded it off. But you’re still coming up short. I buy one, £1, scratch card, top prise, £100,000. I live in hope that one day i’ve win that 100 grand and that very day quit my job. Trust me, i can make that 100 grand last a long time. It would at least give me the time i need to train for a better job and of course write more books.

I feel like i’ve done nothing but procrastinate

Well i have been, deal with it. I procrastinate. A lot.

I also wonder if i’m trying to sabotage my job…

But that’s a story for another day.

3 Comments on “Untitled.

  1. Now why can’t my blog sound like this. Of course, it’s your blog. I find it quite amazing, and confusing just like me.

    Like

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