Lazy from C-Z

The long draught comes to a full stop. Birds fly left and right with her arrival, and the soft, fragile essence of winter finally comes full circle. Through Miriam I have reconciled with a part of my past and all its transgressions, despite the discomfort and the lingering ball of hatred swelling inside me still alight. Miriam has gladly imparted to me the gift of hope. The hope that something good comes for every ten bads that runs me over to the wall. She now finds herself with me, and occupying her time this day with her first proper day of work, and on Boxing day at that, two days after she had lost her handbag in Holborn station on the way home from mother's. I find myself worrying too much at the thought of her mind in stitches. This is not a very good way to start our relationship. Fretting over such matters now would only serve to fuel an unhealthy amount of longingness, of dependence, and of obsession. She does not need my constant meddling and pestering, and I need t

Call it a burning desire to urinate on the system that we as people have established; status quo. Felt a huge fluctuation of anxiety when I finished this day earlier than what I would have thought or expected, and it was technically my first day of job (again), and huge surges of this same rhetoric came pouring back in when Miriam and I have not been having proper back-and-forths since yesterday. It was as if we had lost interest with one another just like that. Either that or I have been consumed by the same system of dependency. The bug that I caught long ago that ruined me to smithereens. The long-winding hours, that which I felt was necessary, was to be a time of reprieve and a time to catch breath. It turned out to be much more toxic that it should be, and it came to pass faster than it should and I now feel poisoned and abused by the thought of having allowed this in the first place. Tomorrow is what I would consider a real test of my endurance, when I work from seven in the

Everything seemed rather perfect until it was not. Problem with decadence is having to go nowhere else but down, and now it seems to be the way where I am headed, but only short-lived, only because I cannot admit to myself that this was a little too soon. Miriam will be arriving in less than three weeks, and that is all well and fine, but rather that spending her time from the get-go with me, she now finds herself locked up in this tug-of-war for her between me and the family. So there will be more waiting game, I suppose, to uplift unenthused spirits from restless abandonment. My time will be forcefully occupied by the powers that be. Food is to be found and taken by my lonesome, with no thought or permission to be had. An apology coming from mine mouth is a lost and sad cause.

Past two night were perhaps the most comfortable I have graced thus far, despite in the past I have said never to dabble again in hostelsurfing (just because I had realised that spending all that money has not been all that worth it). Just I felt that it was an important occasion at this particular moment being that it had been so cold out in the open to the teeth. Squatting at my hedge (defensively begotten) in Hyde Park had been mostly deplorable. Almost impossible to conceive the struggle and difficulties of my days to days, and, despite having no beneficial returns and the prospect of losing advantage for the upcoming December charade, it was then that I felt compelled to return to my temporary accommodational relief. Besides, my work in Roundhouse for the Christmas runs will guarantee me a return here in the nearest future, so it might be best for me to just let it pass. It should not be as detrimental to my pockets if I pray the cards right. So I woke up slightly groggy this

If, for some reason, she forgets, life will find its way, when, her heart ruminates, all, that I have exhausted, to give, to share, to shed, and feel, life will find its way; I am, and, will always be, for you, mine Miriam, the one I call mine own; If, for some reason, I happen to forget, slap me, once, hard, to my face, and tell me how it is, that you have loved me only then will I, due to the circumstances with which mine mind operates, begin to ruminate, the sweetness of your all; There will never, ever and ever, be, to me, after you, someone like you;

Half past five in this early morning, somewhere near Elephant and Castle, shamed by the stench of mine cumbersome breeches. It had been too long since this garment was first met with mine skin. High time it should be replaced with something more alleviating, something more fresh, and something less toxic than mine own waste. Fortunately today is most definitely that day, if I get the will and energy to do so still later on. Once when daylight touches the tip of my crouching wanton eyes, caressing the luggage beneath it, hoping the muddy dark be washed away by simple liquid, away from the petals of the absent sun and hopeless cold. Plan is to revisit an old place of shelter, once thought to be mine acquaintance, but never lasted as hoped it would. Met no person of relevance to call a friend unlike that one called Clink save for one whom I tried to shake from memory just because his person became symbolic of mine very own misery. Him and I had some similarities in common, though you wou

Love the light that brights my day those that swims that voice at bay those that write the words I say those that dims when she's away

Four hours and ticking and I cannot seem to be copacetic to the privacy of her suspicious absence. How could I be when frightening tremors had shook their country just earlier today? It has been quite common to read about earthquakes rocking Italy recently, and the more these events take place, the more people feel less surprised about the fatalities. At the moment, I can sit on this chair being bothered by Starbucks personnel every half an hour or so, waiting for updates of Miriam's whereabouts. Surely she would be safe. I suppose my fears always come back to bite me in my arse. This is a farcry from mine fears. Far be it from the truth, I will not let it tear me asunder. She will be back to me soon enough, and then it would not take long before she will be in my arms, singing praises of our love, beneath the starry sky and our duvet. There is this unusual feeling of dread knowing that tomorrow I will be once again immersed into a job that I do not love; a return to form; of bein

So the sun rose up and I had to awaken due to bladder issues outside my realm of control. There is no place any more hellish than being caught with your pants down on a park hedge while rangers are out there trimming it for the fast coming of winter. I had to budge my lazy butt when I overheard one said that he noticed someone living there. It would have made for an awkward conversation, one I could not for long want to suffer. As usual I try to fight off the disease as I make my way to a cosy Starbucks near Holborn. The day went by so fast, and it so happened to be the second day I succumbed to surrender, having left my spot at a wonderful job opportunity in O2 Arena in Greenwich for more time with Esprit. It is as if our fate and tangled for quite some time. Mark had sent me a message earlier today congratulating me of a job well done last week. But the only highlight of my day was having Miriam and I tackle our anxieties right before our day-ender. Most of the time before o

The Benevoli were all still preoccupied by the news of death of the Lordfather when the children of Tulussa invaded Loppianeu. It was discovered that the Lordfather had secretly conspired with neighbour Poruscsh sometime in ca 00.9, successful in setting up a diplomatic truce wherein the much-awaited unification of Certagruni was at stake. A single cohesive nation of a united Certagruni would understandably put Tulussa on red alert, especially when not too long ago they had soured their relationship with Poruscsh by taking the Strait of Marus for themselves, a strategical point of contention that benefited Tolussa greatly by diminishing their former ally's strength. Poruscsh did not take this betrayal well, it seems. No one can truly verify what was discussed during that clandestine sessions between the two biggest national rivals. It was reported that when the Dux of Tulussa, Archibalt Sivi, had discovered this, he sent his recsons to assassinate the Lordfather of Loppian

The singing clouded my ears and I lost my sense of hearing the moment she rang the first bell. By the time the second bell sounded, I was on the floor bleeding from my ears. Everything around me was about to collapse. The world around me blurred little by little, and I felt as if this was my ultimate adieu. The third bell rang and I still lied stiff to the side. Another body fell in front of me. Could have smashed me to my end, but there seemed no rush. Everything slowed down. I no longer noticed the fourth bell sound. My entire senses caved in. But I knew all was lost. Basangra has once again awakened. The mages who earlier formed a huge turtle formation to counter our moorguards finally dissipated once the might of Basangra went into full throttle. No one was spared, not even those fools that summoned him from the portal whence he came from. The rest of the moorguards remained, fending the gargantuan beast all by themselves to no avail. It was a futile massacre. We were larg

If I could just draw luck and find another job before December, my anxiety would decrease tenfold. Tomorrow I have another registration with a new company. Hospitality and the same shit, over and over, again and again. Sick to death with a machination that clearly does not work to my favour, paining me with early terminations in a month or so, not even giving me any benefit of doubt. I am no asset to anyone, only to a rare few, and even then once my ooze sets in, no one dares to step in. I truly am alone. This realisation is the first time I have ever felt so isolated. Miriam clearly does not deserve me. I fear for a future that my scarred self allows to happen. All I wanted was a place to call my own. But I am through and through a villain. Modern necessities share with me the desire to put myself above all others. Given the chance, I would see the world burn and left to snigger, eyes closed, no guns needed. Behind closed doors, across distant worlds, day to night, I will ret

Fourteen hours of Esprit last night was a bit overkill for my mind and body. Today's soiree happened to be not such a blast after all. It was much too difficult to bounce my head around it with. My phone had died for more than half a day since, and tried to sleep it off within the confines of a public park hedge that I now call home. It was much of a tragedy for some time. For now I wonder what it would actually be like when shit finally reaches the fan a month from today. Where do I go and who do I turn to for help? Nobody except myself as always. Miriam was with me once more. She is almost always with me as much as possible. Now I fear for my sanity again. To do the same mistakes as I did before. To live and die with one purpose and sticking by my weak mantra like a sore thumb with no direction and no worries in life. At the very least this woman makes me feel a very happy and lucky man, and sometimes I do ask myself whether I deserve such a painfully honest and loving heart

There remained a lingering, springy pain from underneath my testicles that made standing up feel quite a chore. It has been two days now. An open wound that would just not heal, menacing me with every step. No one gets it. I begin to stink and no one blinks an eye. No one tells me straight to my face how disgusting a human being I truly am. No, no one has the audacity. Cowards living under a safe rock. So now that I have sorted out my bling, and so the situation calls for me to move forward and step ahead of the game. I need to earn more for the sake of whatever fuckery is on the way. A month left before the cue ticks reminding me of my interpersonal responsibilities. Miriam made sure that her libido is kept intact while mine floats all over the ba-dee-ya highway to the boulevard of broken dreams and anticlimactic disappointment. My sense of security is definitely out of loop as you see, but this is just my midlife dilemma blaring at a loudspeaker inside my head. Somehow if I

Fancies were tickled, but no one actually bothered checking to see whether or not I would last another month under cold and miserable duress. The army of slugs were upon me day and night, as if my next day migraine was caused by a stray, microscopic infant slug who had lost its way. It saddens me to think my demise would be caused by an irreparable factor such as this. Perhaps it is a long shot, one that I am willing to ignore for now in order for me to enjoy what is left of my life outside the threat of constant paranoia. I cannot even leave this McDonald's now. I have just consumed food once again without exercising in return. What form would my physical beside my countenance have in store for Miriam come December when she lands her gaze upon mine? It would be tremendously embarrassing. One that I hope to downplay for fear of disappointment. Once again I come across the threshold of falling in love like a maniac. A few weeks ago Miriam had told me of her brother's fears

Work had been done in small doses. I now feel like a huge load had been lifted from my back. It is however never enough. That is life's greatest Catch-22. You get to do some work, have some life, and still you need to work more to have more life. Apparently one can only have so little in life before everything else implodes. We are all made with built-in time bombs after all to diminish the value of what we have done in our lives. The road to mine is paved with wide indifference. Everyone else is too bothered about themselves to be bothered by mine. I have literally been living in a hedge for months now, and for what? For a chance to feel something better come December, when the thing that matters most actually culminates into something special. Miriam is a name that will become a household commodity, and I have moved on from the other M for quite some time now, which sickens me to think I have even bothered with it. I am imprisoned by my own past, and now I long for this new

Eleven pages of work had to be done at such a short period of time. None of the others had any inkling of work nor the desire to accomplish what was necessary to achieve this goal. Perhaps it was too much to ask of me; my responsibilities do not include the work of thieves and braggarts. This will be a long month and already halfway through it. The light at the end of this road serves as a guidance for the torturous tomorrow that awaits what little there is that is left of me. Break down my days in threes because sevens are a wee bit excessive. The sevens are my enemy now, threes a crowd, but that is all there is and it is all to need. This one colleague of mine tells me openly about his homophobia after a scantily clad guest came up to us to purchase some small bottles of water. He gave one swift look at him, came up with a decision based on his demeanour, his voice, and his choice of clothing or lack thereof, dismissing him immediately as gay and judged him decisively based

One gesture and a smile and I was smitten from the first. Smitten like a dead puppy tail-wagging in the afterlife up in cloud nine. Or should I say up in summit of Olympus where my dear dreams have left itself to be acclimated, far from my own control, deserting me at my most wildest moment of vulnerability? The hard kiss on my cheek is still very much fresh. Would that I could keep it as a glorious and everlasting memory. Memories are by nature going by two faces. One to stir sweet nostalgia, and the other to provoke eternal sorrow. Hence the reason why I bestowed my final memento of a bygone time to Olympia before I left. Such is a sad nature of my affairs, but how was she to know? To her I was as well a memory of a time when we chance met clashing charm against charm. How could I ever had taken this long to pursue this endeavour? How could I have lingered in a mistake for far too long that it could have easily slipped me by? It felt to me as if one of my foot was trapped between pr

'Twas a sweet evening, but overall uneventful, yesterday was. It was mounted on the carcasses of inevitability from the first, with no hope of reprieve. It is supposed to be the case that I should have been halfway to London by now. My journey began yesterday and crashed and burned only an hour or so later. Thorough cowardice and forced elation. Slowly I have acclimated (acclimatised?) to my new nature. Sleep no longer was a pained affair. I wake up and go before anyone barely notices. The only witnesses I have are coming from the eyes of uncaring rubbishmen doing their morning dues. Today the plan is to just not die. By hook or crook, I will survive. Come tomorrow, I will be back in London working once again at Mansion House and Vintners, the usual piss-posh. Wembley after that for two days. Ecstatic, with a little bit of last night's mackerel stuck in my teeth after I threw up a little bit in my mouth after saying that. Tragedy is what would be if a single shift gets sha

Today is my third day here in Brighton, and it is hardly what I would consider a pleasant experience. However it is not without its own sweet moments. I myself do love to partake in the glorious minutes of peace that I oh so left with my old life. Old habits simply die hard. The plan today was to walk home back to London, and I then chickened out seven kilometres through with my tailfeather tucked neatly inside my asshole. I can still feel the nagging discomfort my anus seems hard-pressed to let go after the morning shit once I was done with my first coffee inside the McDonald's lavatory in Marina Village. It had been a few days since I had let go, and so it felt like a rubbish dump that turned into a nuclear warhead somewhere in between. My gastric space now feels as if it had been turned into an Arizonan launching site and is still reeling after a test run. Also today it feels as though my career as a petty criminal has finally been made official. It almost feels second

She was lost to me completely the moment I allowed to let her go Now only the memory of our sweet escape remains I have to start saying no I have to learn to say no She was lost to me from the start She was there sitting beside me when I woke up yesterday And she was there today doing the same I have to start saying yes I have to learn to say yes She was warm to me to the end Our hearts were far apart Maybe just a little bit Maybe because I think it so Or maybe because I'm just afraid She said goodbye, and I hugged her twice for good measure She went in,  and I walked away I turned around, and she turned around She never sees me, and she walks away She walks away She walked away

Some days are filled with tedious nothingness that the only reprieve I can muster are the same things that I routined back when I had what resembles so close to life. Nowadays it has been somewhat a blur. Little things that pile up to turn into... a thaig of little things. Just like what it feels pretending to be Russian dolls undulating in the peripheries of your windshield. It has recently felt like an extreme change of pace from the way I lived my life before compared to where I find my position to be in at the moment. My greatest enemy all of a sudden are my basics of needs; food, shelter, companionship, camaraderie, and whatnot, etc. Not to say it is absent but it feels very antibody-like, and I am a pathogen. I am my own biggest autoimmune disease. My body fails me most of the time. I have been experiencing epistaxis, at the most random of times at that, more often than I bother to count. My head feels heavier due to which I reckon is lack of proper sleep, or a timeslot with

It has been the most awkward of months since my birthday a few weeks ago. Left home when nothing else was in tow for me. Everyone else around me seemed to give up, and I was left to fend for my own against the harsh jungles of urban England. Homeless is not a word I am unfamiliar with, or even comfortable with, but here I am, a month later, just that. A few days deprived of a good night's rest. I have lost more of my possessions than I am in procuring them, and I have not enough resources to make do with what I have. This is not like one of my spiritual gallivantings where I go walk towards the deeper yonders of neverwhere. I now am stuck to rot in London trying to survive against every single thing and one. Time is long, work is scarce -- ergo money is scarce as well -- but when work does come it is miserably torturous, where in the aftermath of a single shift deprives you of all the joys in your system. It is all fried and fucked up. Like the people and colleagues around me.