Life is a strange and wondrous thing and it never ceases to amaze me. Wherever you go, you will find disappointment, but you will also find beauty, kindness, generosity and laughter. Life, real life, is an unforeseeable, yet exciting, combination of so many things, both positive and negative.
Over the course of the last few months, I've used this blog to write of my experiences (some real, some imagined) contribute bizarre ideas and, in certain circumstances, exorcise a few demons. It's been strangely cathartic and I've had great fun doing it.
You see, if you can take those things that bother you, that keep you awake at night, that break your heart and tear at your soul, and you can find the humour in them, then you're on the way to becoming a much better person.
Like they say, life isn't the destination, it's the journey. Enjoy the journey, make it a good one, and never forget to laugh at yourself. Bill Hicks said, "It's just a ride". Amen to that.
All of this leads me on to my point.
This blog had a purpose, but I'm increasingly feeling that purpose has been served and it's time to move on. Also, there's a lot of truth in the cliché 'Quit while you're ahead'.
I've spent the last year collaborating on a screenplay (The Gentlemen’s Club), which may soon be sold. I have another screenplay (Forty Thousand Thieves) to work on which will take up the next year of my life. Something's got to give, and that thing is The Blog of Eternal Disappointment.
It's been fun, I've been in contact with some interesting and very funny people but, as the man said, All Good Things Must Come To An End.
I may, from time to time, come back and add the occasional comment or insight, but for now I feel that the time is right to say goodbye.
Thank you for visiting.
Thank you for your comments.
Most of all, thank you for 'getting it'.
It's been good.
Dan.
26 January 2005
19 January 2005
Insomnia and strap-ons
I've never felt any real sympathy for insomniacs.
After all, what kind of moron can't sleep? Surely it's a talent that we all possess? The ability to sleep isn't so much a choice as a necessity. I remember reading about David Baddiel being an insomniac and, secretly, I was quite pleased. The man is a wanker and the idea of him laying awake at night, unable to fall into a slumber, whilst realising that, essentially, he is a talentless scumbag, gave me a sadistic thrill.
So, insomniacs, you're a shower of idiotic buffoons who deserve every sleepless moment of your pathetic, unfulfilling lives.
So, to the present. I can't sleep.
It's the early hours of the morning and I'm completely awake. I'm sipping from a small bottle of dutch beer and a plastic glass of a Czechoslovakian spirit made from plums or goat feotuses or something, listening to Miles Davis. My psychic flatmate has hidden her bottle of vodka. All week long I've seen it sitting in the kitchen and completely ignored it. The night that I could actually use some, she's hidden it. Smart.
For the last week or so I've been experiencing a combination of insomnia, horrific headaches and quite frightening chest pains. I was convinced yesterday that I was going to die and, indeed, gave myself until midnight. I truly believed that I would feel a terrible pain in my chest, akin to being hit with a ten-pound sledgehammer, then pass away screaming, vomiting and soiling my underwear. 'Bad Rat' even went so far as getting me to write out a will bequeathing my Tom Baxter CD to her. However, I added a sub-clause which meant that, in the event of my death, she has to delete all the porn from my PC before my poor old mother comes round and finds it.
I think that's a big fear of mine, that when I die all the people around me will realise that I've built up a sizeable collection of hardcore pornographic images and videos which, frankly, are frightening. Even more frightening is the fact that I'm so ridiculously anal (in the organisational sense) that I've actually arranged my porn into specific folders: Blowjob, Fuck, Handjob, Titfuck. Is that obsessively sad? I don't know. At least there isn't a folder entitled 'being anally abused with a strap-on by a large-breasted woman wearing a hockey mask'. That'd probably be under miscellaneous, anyway.
I've decided that I'm going to write a blog entry and store it in perpetuity until my death. In the event of my impending heart attack (that's how I'm going to go, I just know it), the blog entry will be posted (Bad Rat may well be involved in this) and it will detail the things that I REALLY think about my friends and acquaintances. Hell, I'm going to draft it tonight.
Oh, and I've quit smoking too. What a week.
After all, what kind of moron can't sleep? Surely it's a talent that we all possess? The ability to sleep isn't so much a choice as a necessity. I remember reading about David Baddiel being an insomniac and, secretly, I was quite pleased. The man is a wanker and the idea of him laying awake at night, unable to fall into a slumber, whilst realising that, essentially, he is a talentless scumbag, gave me a sadistic thrill.
So, insomniacs, you're a shower of idiotic buffoons who deserve every sleepless moment of your pathetic, unfulfilling lives.
So, to the present. I can't sleep.
It's the early hours of the morning and I'm completely awake. I'm sipping from a small bottle of dutch beer and a plastic glass of a Czechoslovakian spirit made from plums or goat feotuses or something, listening to Miles Davis. My psychic flatmate has hidden her bottle of vodka. All week long I've seen it sitting in the kitchen and completely ignored it. The night that I could actually use some, she's hidden it. Smart.
For the last week or so I've been experiencing a combination of insomnia, horrific headaches and quite frightening chest pains. I was convinced yesterday that I was going to die and, indeed, gave myself until midnight. I truly believed that I would feel a terrible pain in my chest, akin to being hit with a ten-pound sledgehammer, then pass away screaming, vomiting and soiling my underwear. 'Bad Rat' even went so far as getting me to write out a will bequeathing my Tom Baxter CD to her. However, I added a sub-clause which meant that, in the event of my death, she has to delete all the porn from my PC before my poor old mother comes round and finds it.
I think that's a big fear of mine, that when I die all the people around me will realise that I've built up a sizeable collection of hardcore pornographic images and videos which, frankly, are frightening. Even more frightening is the fact that I'm so ridiculously anal (in the organisational sense) that I've actually arranged my porn into specific folders: Blowjob, Fuck, Handjob, Titfuck. Is that obsessively sad? I don't know. At least there isn't a folder entitled 'being anally abused with a strap-on by a large-breasted woman wearing a hockey mask'. That'd probably be under miscellaneous, anyway.
I've decided that I'm going to write a blog entry and store it in perpetuity until my death. In the event of my impending heart attack (that's how I'm going to go, I just know it), the blog entry will be posted (Bad Rat may well be involved in this) and it will detail the things that I REALLY think about my friends and acquaintances. Hell, I'm going to draft it tonight.
Oh, and I've quit smoking too. What a week.
15 January 2005
Alcohol and Depression
They (they, of course, being that ephemeral, undefined group of moral guardians who, unbidden and often unappreciated, dispense advice to the slimy, unkempt, unsavoury masses) say that alcohol is a depressant.
Well, let me tell you that alcohol is not a depressant. I am, as we speak (or type or read or whatever the fuck it is that your contribution to this is) extraordinarily, lavishly, quite unfeasibly drunk and, personally, I don't believe a word of it. Alcohol is not, repeat NOT, a depressant. I should know.
Anyone who says otherwise (THEY for instance) are merely trying to ruin what is already a pointless, depressing, ultimately very disappointing life.
Don't believe them. Alcohol is good. It is our saviour.
God, I'm so depressed....
p.s. I soooo love being me. I can be really pissed off all the time and get away with it because of this blog. This is the best thing I ever did. Apart from that thing with those Asian twins. That was pretty good too.
p.p.s. I didn't really do anything with Asian twins. If there are any American ladies out there who find me strangely attractive, don't be put off by my bluff exterior and claims of enjoying a menage a trois. I'm really very nice.
p.p.p.s. If there are any Asian twins out there who find me strangely attractive, don't be put off by my penchant for American ladies. I'm really very dirty.
Well, let me tell you that alcohol is not a depressant. I am, as we speak (or type or read or whatever the fuck it is that your contribution to this is) extraordinarily, lavishly, quite unfeasibly drunk and, personally, I don't believe a word of it. Alcohol is not, repeat NOT, a depressant. I should know.
Anyone who says otherwise (THEY for instance) are merely trying to ruin what is already a pointless, depressing, ultimately very disappointing life.
Don't believe them. Alcohol is good. It is our saviour.
God, I'm so depressed....
p.s. I soooo love being me. I can be really pissed off all the time and get away with it because of this blog. This is the best thing I ever did. Apart from that thing with those Asian twins. That was pretty good too.
p.p.s. I didn't really do anything with Asian twins. If there are any American ladies out there who find me strangely attractive, don't be put off by my bluff exterior and claims of enjoying a menage a trois. I'm really very nice.
p.p.p.s. If there are any Asian twins out there who find me strangely attractive, don't be put off by my penchant for American ladies. I'm really very dirty.
13 January 2005
Freestyle blogging
It is 1 a.m. here in lil ol' England and I can't sleep. Thus, I have decided to post something on the blog.
Trouble is, I don't have anything prepared so I've decided to ad lib. Yes, oh faithful readership, this will be an unabridged, unedited, unexpurgated and, probably, uninteresting post. Replete with spelling mistakes and poor grammar too, no doubt.
So, what do I write about? Erm...
I know! I'll give you a fascinating insight into a day in my life! Joy oh joy...
I couldn't get to sleep last night until 2.30 a.m. Then I had a nightmare in which I murdered someone and was so shocked by the experience that I woke up. Didn't get back to sleep for another half hour. Woke up at 5.30 and hit the snooze button repeatedly until about 8.00. Arrived at work late. (See? The disappointment starts even at that time in the morning...)
Had an uneventful day at work.
Popped round to my lady friend's house because she's off work sick at the moment. Had a cup of tea. Caught the wrong bus home and had to get off and wait for another one.
Ate a chicken stir-fry which was made by my flatmate. She is one of the worst cooks in the world. No really. The stir-fry contained whole spring onions (scallions, for transatlantic readers). For some reason, she didn't realise that they should probably be chopped. To make matters worse, she always cooks stir-fries on a low heat, but at the normal timings. Thus, the vegetable were 'al dente'. I've had better meals.
I then set up her new PC for her. Also tidied my room, which included cleaning my PC. I removed each key from the keyboard individually, wiped them thoroughly with a soft cloth and replaced them. You've never really known desperation and despair until you've done something like that.
Watched TV.
Dyed my flatmate's hair. She cut my hair. Now my neck itches.
Drank a glass of vodka.
Logged on to the Internet.
And so, here I am!
I'm 31 years old and that was my day.
Now perhaps you can understand what a deep personal disappointment my life is in so many ways.
To make matters worse, I've just realised that there isn't a single amusing thing in this entire post. God almighty in heaven, today has been such a waste...
More fascinating insights next time.
Trouble is, I don't have anything prepared so I've decided to ad lib. Yes, oh faithful readership, this will be an unabridged, unedited, unexpurgated and, probably, uninteresting post. Replete with spelling mistakes and poor grammar too, no doubt.
So, what do I write about? Erm...
I know! I'll give you a fascinating insight into a day in my life! Joy oh joy...
I couldn't get to sleep last night until 2.30 a.m. Then I had a nightmare in which I murdered someone and was so shocked by the experience that I woke up. Didn't get back to sleep for another half hour. Woke up at 5.30 and hit the snooze button repeatedly until about 8.00. Arrived at work late. (See? The disappointment starts even at that time in the morning...)
Had an uneventful day at work.
Popped round to my lady friend's house because she's off work sick at the moment. Had a cup of tea. Caught the wrong bus home and had to get off and wait for another one.
Ate a chicken stir-fry which was made by my flatmate. She is one of the worst cooks in the world. No really. The stir-fry contained whole spring onions (scallions, for transatlantic readers). For some reason, she didn't realise that they should probably be chopped. To make matters worse, she always cooks stir-fries on a low heat, but at the normal timings. Thus, the vegetable were 'al dente'. I've had better meals.
I then set up her new PC for her. Also tidied my room, which included cleaning my PC. I removed each key from the keyboard individually, wiped them thoroughly with a soft cloth and replaced them. You've never really known desperation and despair until you've done something like that.
Watched TV.
Dyed my flatmate's hair. She cut my hair. Now my neck itches.
Drank a glass of vodka.
Logged on to the Internet.
And so, here I am!
I'm 31 years old and that was my day.
Now perhaps you can understand what a deep personal disappointment my life is in so many ways.
To make matters worse, I've just realised that there isn't a single amusing thing in this entire post. God almighty in heaven, today has been such a waste...
More fascinating insights next time.
10 January 2005
Ouch
Never chop chilli peppers and then go to the toilet without washing your hands first. It hurts. A lot.
A New Year - A whole host of disappointments....
Wow! It's 2005! Hoo-hah! Woo, yay and hoopla!
You do realise that 2005 is going to be just as disappointing as 2004, don't you? Just wanted to check.
You see, the New Year is a time for hope, desires and heartfelt wishes. We see the New Year arrive and we think 'Yes, this is the year that I'm going to find love and wealth and health and everything I desire'. And, of course, before you know it you've broken all of your resolutions and you realise that 2005 is exactly the same as 2004 except you're one year closer to dying alone and miserable surrounded by the dusty memories and weeping ghosts of what could have been. Still, it's not all doom and gloom - Star Wars Episode 3 comes out in May. Yay!
**************
Recently, a friend of mine (the ruiner of potential relationships) remarked that there had been no new posts on my blog in a number of days. He went on to say that, in his opinion, this was something of a disappointment and, accordingly, wanted to know if that was the slightly ironic point of the whole thing.
I had to admire his thinking.
However, I should clarify that the reason I haven't posted recently is that I couldn't really be bothered.
I shall post again at some point, but I need to get my arse into gear first. Apologies, etc.
You do realise that 2005 is going to be just as disappointing as 2004, don't you? Just wanted to check.
You see, the New Year is a time for hope, desires and heartfelt wishes. We see the New Year arrive and we think 'Yes, this is the year that I'm going to find love and wealth and health and everything I desire'. And, of course, before you know it you've broken all of your resolutions and you realise that 2005 is exactly the same as 2004 except you're one year closer to dying alone and miserable surrounded by the dusty memories and weeping ghosts of what could have been. Still, it's not all doom and gloom - Star Wars Episode 3 comes out in May. Yay!
**************
Recently, a friend of mine (the ruiner of potential relationships) remarked that there had been no new posts on my blog in a number of days. He went on to say that, in his opinion, this was something of a disappointment and, accordingly, wanted to know if that was the slightly ironic point of the whole thing.
I had to admire his thinking.
However, I should clarify that the reason I haven't posted recently is that I couldn't really be bothered.
I shall post again at some point, but I need to get my arse into gear first. Apologies, etc.
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