Evening Essex

I'm sat in the back garden, having a smoke, playing the guitar and enjoying a lovely cup of tea as the sun goes down. It's a different pace out here in the country.

Nah, I need to play some more guitar before it gets any colder and I decide to go in...

Well, you lucky people. Are you in for a treat? I started writing this out of habit and wanting to write more. There wasn't a plot or anything. But now...

So, since I put the screen down I have: played a little more guitar (like one song), gone inside to get some matches, lit and smoked the doob, found that the rest of my weed is missing; the empty (like licked clean) cling film was lying on the floor, no whereabouts of a clue as to why this has just happened.

I looked around the floor, the table, the grass!

And then, because I'm a little high, spun out a bit. Where has my weed gone? Who and how the hell did they get it? I've just come inside to write that down. At the risk of a) getting cold, b) not finding anything or c) being stalked by a new nemesis; I have to act.

What happens next?

The life...

I constantly find myself amazed by the banality of life. Should any of these observations occur within my post, please do not take it is as a lack of gratitude, I just haven't had the chance to enjoy these due to: a) bigger problems (like trying to feed myself); b) other bigger problems (like battling/enjoying substance abuse); or c) thinking that people that are challenged by banal problems don't deserve to live for not having bigger problems.

The other side's fun.

I'm lying on a comfortable bed in a house in Essex. The bed doesn't have bed bugs. My housemates (if you can call them that) have gone to bed. The internet works. Fuck. If blowjobs were flying in through the window, I'd have to pinch myself that I wasn't dreaming if I saw this as my future nine months ago. To clarify, there are no blowjobs, but life's got a lot more peachy in the time it takes to gestate a human being.

My hard work, blood, sweat and tears paid off. And my, how it's paid off. I'm now the editorial assistant on not one, not two but... actually, I forget how many, but quite a few magazines. The times they are a changing and the budgets are getting smaller. But what do I care? I'm included in that budget now. And it's fucking ace!

And life outside of London. That helps the personal budget too. Hell, I just spent a night in the pub watching football and only broke a tenner by going for a portion of chips at half time. I can walk to work. How's that? It doesn't cost a penny. At this rate, I might get out of my student overdraft before I die.

Unlike the bar work, I should probably allow myself a decent night's sleep before I get up and start it all again (not that it was often a willing choice in my past life). But how can I sleep when I've got so much on my mind: What soap should I buy? How can I reduce my carbon footprint? Should we take on A.V.?

Who am I shitting? I don't care about that. (But I would go for A.V. if I could be bothered to register to vote.)

I need a day off

Sorry typewriter. For the need of practicalities this one's going to have to go straight from the laptop.

I woke up on the sofa at my friend James' house. The area seemed vaguely familiar. God knows what time we were up drinking until; I can imagine it was quite late. There was quite a walk back from the club. And I think the club shut at 3.00am.

Crap. Flashbacks: I don't think we stayed til the place closed. I also remember vomiting into a pint glass at the bar. The two might be related.

It's now Sunday and I'm working tonight. I can't remember the last day I had a day off. The old 15 hour day has cropped up to and my next day off is not due until Saturday. I could moan that I'm flagging, not that it would get me anywhere. Neither does the after work socializing. But as a bartender it's part of the job. If you're not offered a free pint after work, something's wrong. If you don't take it, you better have a good reason, otherwise you are wrong.

In the end, after the six hours' sleep every night and the lack of time off, it's all worth it.

It's my last day today.

I'm going to work at a magazine tomorrow.