The Nutters’ Block

I’m watching Christopher Hitchens, after he got cancer.  I’m thinking, I could become an atheist.  You love The Secret, but everyone mocks you for its supposed absurdity, so you just keep it a secret.

God doesn’t need me to believe in him, in the same vein that I know I exist, and can never not know that.  I don’t need to believe in myself, other than an awareness of my innate potential as a consciousness being.

Len’s in bed, surprise surprise, so I feel like writing again.  Of course, we’re hoping she hasn’t got cancer, and we’re all hoping my Nan’s going to live until she’s a hundred.  My Granddad died, and I didn’t feel anything.  I admired the man.  He was the closest thing I had to a male role model, apart from Player Steve who taught me how to laugh loudly and not give a shit.  Things change.

My Nan’s death would hit me harder than Granddad’s.  I’ve always relied on Nan, the same way I rely on Mum, and I don’t know how to reach deeper than that, or find something more poignant to express about the matter.

The Voices were saying I’m the most boring man on the planet.  Perhaps I am.  They then proceeded to call me a killer, and I had to agree.  Without Mum, Nan, or Len, would I consider killing?

I went to my psychiatric center and told them I felt like killing someone.  They put me in a room with a bright spark who just kept jamming his index finger into the table.  They should have sectioned me.  I needed it.  I followed that up by voluntarily agreeing to be in hospital.  I was there a year.

Human life is precious.  It is.  I have thought about using lethal force, more than a few times.  I’d like to say I’m harmless.  I am.  Off meds I feel prepared to kill.  I think I’ll live my life in a peaceful and harmonious state.  I do have a killer instinct.  I’m sure we all do.  Perhaps noticing that is the first step towards striving to be truly good.

I’m not even sure I could punch someone, let alone use lethal force.  I know all too well how to use lethal force.  I’ve studied.  I also know all too well that my flight reaction is so much more developed than my fight reaction.  I’ve seen that play out, in me.

I’ve got Len back.  She’s turned down an offer of a shared flat.  I get to keep her just that little bit longer.  I feel full, knowing she’s in bed in the other room.  I feel a fullness of experience.

Regardless of what happens, I will always feel indebted to her.  She could dump me now.  I couldn’t dump her.  That gives me my vulnerability back.  I’m gambling it all.  I guess that’s a very human place to find oneself in.

476,526 Words

I’ve written 476,526 words on this blog, according to an online website wordcount checker.  I thought it’d be more, to be fair.  I’m not sure what I’ve accomplished, other than simply enjoying the process.  A lot’s happened.  A lot’s changed (lie).

Len’s on her way back from the hospital.  I tidied the living room.  I know!  I was surprised, too!  Well, hopefully she gets back soon, so I can cook us some nice dinner.  I’m sipping Pepsi and watching First Dates videos on YouTube.  No idea why (lie).

I’ve got thirty cans of John Smith’s coming in tomorrow’s shop.  I spent a good £215 on the shop, but it’s so much because of tobacco and booze.  We eat well.  I can say that.

I think about all the domain names I’ve owned over the years.  It’s a lot.  I think of all the blogs I’ve had, and wonder how many millions of words I’ve written since I first started blogging.  I deleted all those old blogs, but I can still see some of the content using the Wayback Machine on Archive.org.

I never read back what I’ve written, unless it’s been a significant amount of time since I wrote it.  I write to be in the moment.  I read through and adjust each blog post straight after it’s written.  I do that about six times with each post.

I’ll listen to the song I link to at the bottom of each post, about five times.  I like to emotionalise the message, give myself end credits to engage my mind fully.  Writing’s a process, rather than a showpiece.

Nan’s just had an episode.  Luckily she was with my cousin, at the time.  They’re testing her to see if it’s another mini-stroke.  I’m (obviously) hoping she’s got many years left.  It won’t matter to me if she can no longer drive.  I’ll get up to see her by other means.  I’ll catch a taxi.  I haven’t been on a bus or tram in years.

I’ve thought about staying over at the weekends at my Mum’s and Nan’s when Len moves out.  I did that before I met Len.  Mum, Steve, and I drink beer and watch Netflix.  Nan and I watch educational shows and dramas.  I don’t know if I’ll do that every weekend, but I’ll definitely stay over at theirs from time to time.

I’ve been watching gaming videos, about hardware and software, on YouTube for hours.  I don’t have many hobbies, but keeping up with gaming’s definitely one of my main interests.  Right now I’m going to drink this Pepsi and await Len calling me.  It’ll be good to have her home.