Serenity NOW!
As I expected, ill fortune did indeed come knocking on my door. I've been sacked from my job as an office administrator.
I was trying to cellotape some useful aphorisms from Plato onto my computer monitor and for the life of me I couldn't find the end of the tape. I struggled with it for a good fifteen minutes but simply couldn't find it.
In in the end I got so frustrated that I began to weep and then in an uncontrollable rage I threw the tape across the office. Unfortunately it hit my boss, the oily goblin, Mr Keane.
He wasn't best pleased and he wobbled over to my desk like an aggrieved walrus and I told me to go home. What a dreadful little man. He is so overbearing, pompous and utterly humourless, which is of course the best indicator of a complete moron.
My plan to move out of my parents shall have to be postponed now that I have no income. I will definately have to buy some books on anger management and coping with job loss.
I shall also have to exact revenge upon Mr Keane. He deserves a damn good thrashing.
Self Help Junkie
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Love, it's a bitch.
I did the I Ching this morning. It offered some useful advice. Unfortunately I can't remeber any of it and I'm sure that ill fortune will be knocking on my door.
I did the I Ching this morning. It offered some useful advice. Unfortunately I can't remeber any of it and I'm sure that ill fortune will be knocking on my door.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
I'm Set Free
Hello there. Still trying to come to terms with the shame an embarressment of phoning the ex in a drunken stupor. I do love the gin dearly but it does have a tendency to make me do very foolish things. In fact I can safely say that a good ninety percent of my idiotic decisions are the result of too much gin soaking my brain with its atoms of ill-judgement. Gin: a cruel ice queen mistress, yet tasty, zesty and ideal for erection maintenance.
So, back to my quest. I tried Mr Wiseman's suggestion of talking to a complete stranger as a way of improving your luck. Sadly my attempt was a complete disaster and I was left feeling humiliated. I needed to retreat and lick my wounds before embarking upon an investigation into starting a conversation with a complete stranger.
I decided that I needed some expert advice about mental and spritual health. My self-esteem, following the stranger/conversation mission, has completely plummeted. This leads us on to the calming advice meted out from The Barefoot Doctor.
In the Barefoot Doctor's book "Liberation" he suggests a range of practical hands-on techniques to aid those with low spirits, low self-esteem and general all round fuck ups. I happily include myself here, I hasten to add.
The book has fifty-odd chapters tackling everything that ails us in these modern times, from lonliness to fear of success. I could've happily covered every chapter which had an ailment from which I suffered, but I must focus.
I was feeling like a failure because of my ineptetude in starting a conversation with a complete stranger. To boost my confidence, the good doctor suggests caressing my liver and breathing deeply, repeating a mantra that would hypnotically increase my sense of self worth and aid my ailing confidence.
I decided to take off my clothes to perform this exercise. I sat on the edge of my and began vigrously rubbing my torso, in the area where I believe my poor, sick liver resides. I was unfortunately disturbed by Mum who didn't know where to look as she entered my room and I was rubbing away, repeating my mantra, "You can do it, you're a man." She was quiet for the rest of the day.
Hello there. Still trying to come to terms with the shame an embarressment of phoning the ex in a drunken stupor. I do love the gin dearly but it does have a tendency to make me do very foolish things. In fact I can safely say that a good ninety percent of my idiotic decisions are the result of too much gin soaking my brain with its atoms of ill-judgement. Gin: a cruel ice queen mistress, yet tasty, zesty and ideal for erection maintenance.
So, back to my quest. I tried Mr Wiseman's suggestion of talking to a complete stranger as a way of improving your luck. Sadly my attempt was a complete disaster and I was left feeling humiliated. I needed to retreat and lick my wounds before embarking upon an investigation into starting a conversation with a complete stranger.
I decided that I needed some expert advice about mental and spritual health. My self-esteem, following the stranger/conversation mission, has completely plummeted. This leads us on to the calming advice meted out from The Barefoot Doctor.
In the Barefoot Doctor's book "Liberation" he suggests a range of practical hands-on techniques to aid those with low spirits, low self-esteem and general all round fuck ups. I happily include myself here, I hasten to add.
The book has fifty-odd chapters tackling everything that ails us in these modern times, from lonliness to fear of success. I could've happily covered every chapter which had an ailment from which I suffered, but I must focus.
I was feeling like a failure because of my ineptetude in starting a conversation with a complete stranger. To boost my confidence, the good doctor suggests caressing my liver and breathing deeply, repeating a mantra that would hypnotically increase my sense of self worth and aid my ailing confidence.
I decided to take off my clothes to perform this exercise. I sat on the edge of my and began vigrously rubbing my torso, in the area where I believe my poor, sick liver resides. I was unfortunately disturbed by Mum who didn't know where to look as she entered my room and I was rubbing away, repeating my mantra, "You can do it, you're a man." She was quiet for the rest of the day.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
I'm beginning to see the light!
So, here we are, the first day, delving into a strange and exciting world of mystery and discovery. Haven't had a chance to do the I Ching today so instead I'm diving head-first into Richard Wiseman's "The Luck Factor".
Mr Wiseman's first piece of advice is this: "Lucky people build and maintain a strong 'network of luck'". To summarise this means that one should have lots of friends and should be prepared to make lots of friends. Now this is a bit of sticking point with me because thanks to the Fuckencow I have managed to alienate practically all of my friends. She turned me against them all because she is such a pathetic and insecure cretin. And she is a stupid. I mean the way she used to pick on poor Larry, who was, I think, borderline autistic. She just thought he was creepy. When he used to come around to our flat he used to just sit and stare at the standing lamp in the corner of the room. Fuckencow and I would be happily chatting or watching television and he would sit there, in a world of his own staring at the lamp. And when I would say: "Larry, why on earth are you staring at the lamp?", he would say "I'm not staring at the lamp", and then continue to stare.
And he would always inquire after the lamp. "Have you still got that lamp?" he would say whenever we'd meet. "It's a good lamp that", he would comment, frequently. So, OK, he was odd, but he was harmless and I liked him and she poisoned my mind against him and many others.
So I have two things that I need to do: I need to reaquaint myself with old friends and I need to make new friends. Mr Wiseman suggests that lucky people often make new friends by talking to complete strangers. One of the practical suggestions he makes is that when at a supermarket checkout start making conversation to the person waiting in line with you. So I popped out to the local supermarket last night to buy some crumpets, eggs, tonic water and a bottle of gorgeous Plymouth gin.
I stood at the checkout. In front of me were a middle-age couple buying the weeks supplies. Lots of oven chips and pizzas. Bloody lumpenites! After a while a pretty young girl with black bobbed hair and a short denim skirt that was freying at the edges, came and stood behind me. She was very attractive in a quirky sort of way, but looked frosty. I thought it would be tough to start a conversation but I rose to the challenge. I looked over her shopping.
"I see you like crisps."
"Yeah." She said. She looked uncomfortable, so I had to work fast.
"Me too. I like prawn cocktail." I laughed, which was a mistake because she looked a bit freaked out.
"Mmm." She said.
"Although they do make you fingers smell a bit unsavoury. Like you've been doing something you shouldn't." I laughed again, manically this time. I was terribly nervous.
She then picked up her shopping and walked to the next checkout. The couple in front heard all this and I'm certain they were giggling as they left the shop. Yeah, go home to your oven ready lives, at least I'm out here trying!
I was completely deflated, depressed and dispondent. Christ, I can't even start a conversation with a complete stranger. I'm so useless.
I paid for my stuff and hightailed it out of there and got home. Mum and Dad were in the kitchen with Auntie Ella and Uncle Gerry, pissed. Gerry had just got back from a trip to Dublin and he had fucken crate of Power's whisky. There was much cooing, kissing and hugging and Aunty Ella said that I looked taller. Yeah, right, I'm nearly thirty-four now Ella you dozy heffer. Gerry offered me a whisky but I declined saying I had a bottle of gin and I was going to have a scoop of that. Gerry then went on to say what a huge queer I was for drinking gin and tonics, which as he put, is a drink for "Birds and lavender fellas." God, it was depressing. I ran up to my room with my bottles of gin and tonic and got stuck into it whilst listening to the calming sounds of Classic FM. Apparantly Mozart is the best musical antidote to depression. There was no Mozart playing.
I finished a good half of the gin and then did something awful.
Mr Wiseman says that a lucky person should maintain strong relations with old friends and aquaintences so I decided to phone the Fuckencow. She is, after all, and old aquaintence and despite our seperation I would like to stay friends with her. I phoned and a man answered.
"Who's that?" I demanded.
"You phoned here mate. Who are you?"
"Is Myrtle there?" This person went off to get my wife.
"Hello", she said, sounding as lovely as ever.
"Who's that man?" I demanded.
"Hello Davy. Are you drunk?"
"Yes. I'm very drunk and you didn't answer my question."
"What's it got to do with you." She can be so cold.
"I still love you." I blurted out.
"I thought we weren't going to contact each other for a while," she said.
"I know, but I miss you so much. You were the one Myrtle. You were the one."
"You're just drunk."
"The truth comes out when you're drunk. I'm so depressed and Uncle Gerry just called me a queer."
"Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself. Please don't pull me down into your pit of anguish. I'm getting on with life." And she hung up, just like that, the insensitive creature.
What a dreadful mistake. I've told her I still love her, which I suppose I do, but now she has the upper hand! I must stay strong and resist any compulsion to ever phone her again, the enchanting cow.
So, not an entirely successful start on my journey of self discovery, but I remain optimistic and will not be discouraged by minor setbacks.
Things to do: I must get a book on how to successfully start a conversation and then I will attempt the "start a conversation with a stranger" tactic as proposed by Mr Wiseman.
I must also try to discover the identity of this strange man who is obviously beasting with Fuckencow.
I must also think of a way of making the Fuckencow think that I don't love her any more. I simply can't allow her have this psychological and emotional advantage over me.
Till next time, dear friends.
So, here we are, the first day, delving into a strange and exciting world of mystery and discovery. Haven't had a chance to do the I Ching today so instead I'm diving head-first into Richard Wiseman's "The Luck Factor".
Mr Wiseman's first piece of advice is this: "Lucky people build and maintain a strong 'network of luck'". To summarise this means that one should have lots of friends and should be prepared to make lots of friends. Now this is a bit of sticking point with me because thanks to the Fuckencow I have managed to alienate practically all of my friends. She turned me against them all because she is such a pathetic and insecure cretin. And she is a stupid. I mean the way she used to pick on poor Larry, who was, I think, borderline autistic. She just thought he was creepy. When he used to come around to our flat he used to just sit and stare at the standing lamp in the corner of the room. Fuckencow and I would be happily chatting or watching television and he would sit there, in a world of his own staring at the lamp. And when I would say: "Larry, why on earth are you staring at the lamp?", he would say "I'm not staring at the lamp", and then continue to stare.
And he would always inquire after the lamp. "Have you still got that lamp?" he would say whenever we'd meet. "It's a good lamp that", he would comment, frequently. So, OK, he was odd, but he was harmless and I liked him and she poisoned my mind against him and many others.
So I have two things that I need to do: I need to reaquaint myself with old friends and I need to make new friends. Mr Wiseman suggests that lucky people often make new friends by talking to complete strangers. One of the practical suggestions he makes is that when at a supermarket checkout start making conversation to the person waiting in line with you. So I popped out to the local supermarket last night to buy some crumpets, eggs, tonic water and a bottle of gorgeous Plymouth gin.
I stood at the checkout. In front of me were a middle-age couple buying the weeks supplies. Lots of oven chips and pizzas. Bloody lumpenites! After a while a pretty young girl with black bobbed hair and a short denim skirt that was freying at the edges, came and stood behind me. She was very attractive in a quirky sort of way, but looked frosty. I thought it would be tough to start a conversation but I rose to the challenge. I looked over her shopping.
"I see you like crisps."
"Yeah." She said. She looked uncomfortable, so I had to work fast.
"Me too. I like prawn cocktail." I laughed, which was a mistake because she looked a bit freaked out.
"Mmm." She said.
"Although they do make you fingers smell a bit unsavoury. Like you've been doing something you shouldn't." I laughed again, manically this time. I was terribly nervous.
She then picked up her shopping and walked to the next checkout. The couple in front heard all this and I'm certain they were giggling as they left the shop. Yeah, go home to your oven ready lives, at least I'm out here trying!
I was completely deflated, depressed and dispondent. Christ, I can't even start a conversation with a complete stranger. I'm so useless.
I paid for my stuff and hightailed it out of there and got home. Mum and Dad were in the kitchen with Auntie Ella and Uncle Gerry, pissed. Gerry had just got back from a trip to Dublin and he had fucken crate of Power's whisky. There was much cooing, kissing and hugging and Aunty Ella said that I looked taller. Yeah, right, I'm nearly thirty-four now Ella you dozy heffer. Gerry offered me a whisky but I declined saying I had a bottle of gin and I was going to have a scoop of that. Gerry then went on to say what a huge queer I was for drinking gin and tonics, which as he put, is a drink for "Birds and lavender fellas." God, it was depressing. I ran up to my room with my bottles of gin and tonic and got stuck into it whilst listening to the calming sounds of Classic FM. Apparantly Mozart is the best musical antidote to depression. There was no Mozart playing.
I finished a good half of the gin and then did something awful.
Mr Wiseman says that a lucky person should maintain strong relations with old friends and aquaintences so I decided to phone the Fuckencow. She is, after all, and old aquaintence and despite our seperation I would like to stay friends with her. I phoned and a man answered.
"Who's that?" I demanded.
"You phoned here mate. Who are you?"
"Is Myrtle there?" This person went off to get my wife.
"Hello", she said, sounding as lovely as ever.
"Who's that man?" I demanded.
"Hello Davy. Are you drunk?"
"Yes. I'm very drunk and you didn't answer my question."
"What's it got to do with you." She can be so cold.
"I still love you." I blurted out.
"I thought we weren't going to contact each other for a while," she said.
"I know, but I miss you so much. You were the one Myrtle. You were the one."
"You're just drunk."
"The truth comes out when you're drunk. I'm so depressed and Uncle Gerry just called me a queer."
"Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself. Please don't pull me down into your pit of anguish. I'm getting on with life." And she hung up, just like that, the insensitive creature.
What a dreadful mistake. I've told her I still love her, which I suppose I do, but now she has the upper hand! I must stay strong and resist any compulsion to ever phone her again, the enchanting cow.
So, not an entirely successful start on my journey of self discovery, but I remain optimistic and will not be discouraged by minor setbacks.
Things to do: I must get a book on how to successfully start a conversation and then I will attempt the "start a conversation with a stranger" tactic as proposed by Mr Wiseman.
I must also try to discover the identity of this strange man who is obviously beasting with Fuckencow.
I must also think of a way of making the Fuckencow think that I don't love her any more. I simply can't allow her have this psychological and emotional advantage over me.
Till next time, dear friends.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
First Steps
Hello one and all and welcome to what I hope will be a wonderous adventure not just for me but for you as well.Firstly, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr Davy and I am a thirty something living in the North-West of blessed England with my Mum and Dad, who are called Collette and John, and very nice and kind and considerate they are too. They have agreed to let me move back home after the sad disintegration of my marriage to Myrtle, who will henceforth be known as the Fuckencow. I'm certainly not bitter about the breakdown of our fifteen year marriage from which I got nothing except heartache, misery, depression, the loss of friends and self-esteem, a sense of self loathing and most crushingly a complete loss of sex drive. But like I say I'm not bitter and I shall persevere to right my self worth and I shall share with you my journey to a higher spiritual and physical place.
In this blog I shall be strictly adhering to advice given from a range of self-help books. To begin with I will be using "I Ching: the book of changes" and "The Luck Factor" by Richard Wiseman. However I will be incorporating other books when I deem it necessary.
So, a brief introduction I know but if you stick with me I'm sure you'll discover more about me and perhaps about yourself!? You never know.
Tomorrow is a bright new day and I'm certain that the wise, educated and good advice that will pour forth from the selected self-help manuals will help me to discover my true self and then hopefully enable me to exact my revenge on the Fuckencow!!!
