so… tell me about your mother

I felt the cold of the worn leather on the back of my neck and I was very much aware that my therapist was wearing a top that was just a little too small for her full breasts.  I didn’t want to look at her as I knew eye contact was well out of the window with her top two shirt buttons undone.  It was about half an hour into our session that I realised that trying not to think about her tits had given me a bone on; how long it was rock hard for, I could not say… we marry in the spring.

Excuse me while I get this out of my head…

I think it’s about time my hermit lifestyle came to an end, at least for a little while; time I got out there and re-connected with a few old pals and start to become a little more social than I am now.

It’s been so long that when I do bump into an old mate I barely know what to say to them as I am crap at small talk and I can’t rely purely on the company of my work mates just for a social outlet.

I’m not one for having or keeping friends and I don’t like to be too close to people, I can probably count on one hand the amount of people that really ‘get me’ on one hand but I do still have a few mates out there that I don’t mind the company of without the urge to kill sweeping over me and its them that I have neglected or just plain disregarded I guess.

But my phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook; my news feed isn’t crammed with notifications or posts of concern for my wellbeing so I guess I’m just one of those faces that pops up from time to time that people figure is okay just doing their own thing or they just don’t give two turds about.

But I guess the door swings both ways on this one; like I said I’m not the best with small talk and I’m really not the one to just text or call just to see how somebody is doing, I hate it when it happens to me so I guess that’s why my inbox is a little baron of late.

Or maybe it’s just because I’m an insufferable prick… little from column A, a little from column B perhaps?

But I do miss my old mates, had some fucking amazing times with those (you) guys and miss getting out there and sharing little adventures, most of them are fucking awesome and I would give my right arm for if need be; guess I don’t really come over like that though right?

But, and here comes the pretty big but, I don’t think that I was ever figured in any of those peoples plans.  I’m the guy that popped into people’s lives midpoint if you get what I mean.  Most of the people I know have known each other for far longer than I have; they all went to school together or played football together or lived near each other as kids and I just sort of drifted in somewhere along the line.

And I’m a pretty forgettable kind of person, I’m not enthusiastic about things, I’m severely over opinionated, I mostly talk and think complete shit, I drink and smoke too much which makes me and out cast in several respects and I’m a quitter.

And I don’t mean a conscious quitter, I don’t think ‘fuck it I can’t be asked with this anymore’, no, I just slow down and then all of a sudden I realise that I don’t have the passion for the thing like when I started it.

Take for instance the music stuff that I was involved with, by the end of the band days I couldn’t be bothered to practice or really have anything to do with the band and I really just gave up.  It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just manifested within me in that way.  I never said ‘I can’t be fucked’ I just couldn’t by the end.

I started a one man grindcore project that at first I was really into, I was recording stuff every weekend and buying equipment left right and centre, I also started my own DIY label to push my stuff and try to get others well into it but again I just lost the drive for it.

I didn’t just stop myself one day and think, ‘what am I doing?’ it just fell away from me.  Now I have a load of recording and musical equipment with a layer of dust on it an inch thick.  I can’t even remember the last time I picked my guitar up.

It’s like this writing kick I’m going through at the moment, I’m starting to wonder how long this will last before the shine wares off.  The fact I’m already starting to think this way is a sign that I’m bound to just stop at some point, and I think that’s a really defeatist attitude towards something I love doing.   It’s almost like I’m setting myself an obstacle that I just can’t be bothered to climb.

I guess that’s why I’m feeling the need for a little interaction with some old friends, have a little bit of back up and maybe, just maybe one of them might give me some sage advice, a little nod in the right direction regarding motivation.  But like I said before, I really don’t think they give a fuck what I am up to because I do go through these phases.

It’s slightly depressing to think that I haven’t got a mate out there that will sit me down and tell me that I’m just being an arsehole and that I should just stick with it because it’s the thing for me to do.  But the more I think about it the better I start to feel because at the end of it all I really haven’t done anything over the years for anybody other than myself and I don’t really need them to massage my ego for me when I can just come on here and vent spleen.

I have noticed that I have used ‘I’ quite a lot in this little rant, glad I don’t have a therapist yet.

But whatever, I’m doing this now and will go at it full-bore until my psyche decides its time for the next fad I guess; maybe it will be a knitted tea-cosy stall in a covered market some place, who knows?  The least you fuckers could do is wish me luck, fuck; I bought you guys enough shots over the years for that at least.

2 responses to “so… tell me about your mother

  • Terrence Nutkins

    You’re wrong about people not giving a fuck, it’s been so long they’ve just forgotten how to show the fuck they do give.
    Keep writing, it’s probably one of the few ways you’re going to leave a mark on this world, one day you will write something that really matters.

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