At this very moment, I’d love to hear the song Been Alone so Long by Peter Hammill. It seems to sum up the evening though it really, rationally has not been so long since I have been alone. Just over three days. Funny how time can scrape and maul your senses. It seems like years, decades. And she transforms herself into the one who can survive her run of the mill world, the world I am very rarely allowed to see - Honeybuníčka land. I am not very happy about the September memory of her calling & messaging when she was drunk in Krnov. I was with Garth then and he shared my pain. I could see it in his face. I wonder what she was really doing, why she was really unavailable. And she accuses me of being suspicious. Oh yes, I am, and after the way she talks about her obsession with sex and the way she hides every other point of her social life from me – who wouldn’t be suspicious? I can think of no-one. You?

Breakfast time! Darling is showering again, which is a prime time to write, don’tcha think? A great deal of yesterday was spent with the grandparents, chowing down, chatting, and poking whenever possible. Poking is one of the favourite pastimes of my darling, and, apparently, her grandfather. Directness has taken on a new dimension in this family, let me tell ya! During the ending portion of lunch, I was barraged, by proxy, with a series of “personal” questions, culminating in my thoughts about children in my future. My genial reader will certainly know this is perhaps a topic not best explored initially. I mean by initially the immediate time surrounding the meeting with relatives. Whatever? My reply went to Jaroslav (grandfather) by proxy, as well. It was that I would not answer questions were they deemed unsuitable by myself (or something akin to that, anyway). The situation at the lunch table was strained for a short time afterwards and zenithed with Jana arguing with Jaroslav. We left, but I believe it was in good graces (later in the evening indicated this since hours were spent again with them, and in a totally pleasant manner).

We walked. She told me something pertaining to a trait I’ve heard of and noticed among many people. She said this: If a certain topic is good for them, it should be good for everyone (around). She carried by saying she thought it was probably a symptom of their old age. It may be true, in a sense, but I have encountered this sort of point of view in many groups of people throughout my life. I am unsure from where it springs, but my guess would be lack of diverse contact with varied types of people and cultural genres. I don’t want to complain here at all - for I like Jana’s grandparents very much. This concept just reminded me of others who are extreme in this “my point of view is the best / only point of view” whom I’ve known in the past. I suppose everyone suffers from this malady (if I can be so silly as to use such a word). Self-observation seems a “cure” (if again I can use a silly word). All in all, I was happy with my mostly hapless communication skills. We managed with my darling, the proxy, by my side, to have discourses on a number of (albeit simple yet satisfying) topics throughout the evening.

This morning, before our couscous adventure with the grandparents begins, Jana aims to analyse the handwriting in this cute little new journal. OH! It’s so small!

Krnov in a makeshift couchbed as the timid girl of my dreams takes a long morning shower. I am happy as a child in this place. Trains carried me satisfactorily to the small but unassuming railway station yesterday. I disembarked and walked hand in hand with Jana through the town, taking a long way, finally arriving here where I have recently given up on sleeping and plan to pursue vigorously the new day. Xmas day, according to the legends, they all say.

Meeting the family can always be an awkward situation. I must admit I was nervous, a trembling deer on a cold night near the highway, but I warmed nearly immediately though my communication skills are sorely lacking. Hey, I certainly tried. Yeah. Kapr was dinner with its close companions potato salad and fishy soup. Xmas in the midsection of Europe - possibly the center of the world - certainly the center of mine! I’ll have to review my ex-journals to find the description of my last Czech Xmas dinner. As far as I can recall, however, this current one blew the previous away without even a smidgen of effort. Possibly atmosphere helped, as well, but my mind cannot conjure right now a realistic comparison. The only mote in the evening was related to Gustav’s whining which often interrupted the clear and otherwise fruitful events.

I received a multitude of gifts (one of which I am writing in now). I was left wondering whether I should’ve brought more! :( My tummy is fumbling and soon breakfast will foist itself upon me!

Jana appears to be completing her shower. It is time to enjoy my second day in a town I’ve wanted to see for nearly a year. More later…

My woman lies in the other room on the bed with a book. The only words she has spoken to me since I returned from work were sarcastic or scurrilous. She claims her mood springs from our Skype chat earlier. I invited her to go to a film tonight and she asked why I liked sitting down so much. She said she’d go, but I have to go to power yoga with her in return. I told her I would not feel comfortable in a group exercise environment (which is certainly true) and she was patently offended, it seems.

We have been wavering. For a long time now.

She treated me with this emotional icyness in the past and I endured it, always building, hoping for better days. Perhaps I was wasting my time. Perhaps she was wasting hers, as well. It is certainly an indication that our relationship is on the rocks when what were once seen as only small cracks in my personality now must shield themselves from a torrential flood from her. So she is not happy. How to let it go?

She said she was looking for a new place to live. She said she wants to leave me. It hurt. It still does a bit, but the pain is waning. As I strolled through the chilly evening from the bus-stop to our flat, I felt a smile creep to my lips as I thought of freedom.

At this moment, a techno/hip hop version of Zarozinia by Hawkwind is permeating the office from the speakers attached to the laptop of my officemate, Petr. Well, what should I expect, really, considering the abortion I heard yesterday? (Baba ORiley by The Who.) I yearn for the peace of my own office space. So

Strange how these days remind me of six years prior. SIX YEARS! Can I enumerate the situations which have held me in limbo since then? They are not to be numbered. They cannot be. I shall go out to smoke a cigarette, down the spiral stairs and onto the parking lot. Delivery men will watch me passively.

Oh, the boss is here. What shall I do? If I have to sit here all day doing nothing important, I shall squeeze my own liver out of my torso and feed it to the bastards who make me live a life which is unimportant.

Jenicek was far away. I remember that clearly. I watched my face in the mirror in the elevator as I descended to take my cigarette. My mind was on the future. On a future that was not particularly defined (everything now seemed to me wanted defined). Vesna was at home (was it home? not really) waiting. I passed time wasting the internet with my intentions. I got no further than earning money for doing nothing. Is it possible in this case, six years later? That is a fucking good question, my friend.

Petr now describes some easy to understand concept on the white-board to Jan whilst I listen to Magma in the headphones Vladimir supplied me. It is only ironic in a deadly passive way. No questions for me, for sure. I am a rock untouched by the lapping waves of questions. For now, I shall not erode.

This is really just a test post, so don't get your hopes up for something deep, philisophical, lurid or otherwise interesting at all.

My desk is a bordel. My brain is foggy with notions which are half-formed. I need to flee my workplace and hop on bus 49, on which I’ll be sped away to a liaison (sortof) with bus 44, which will whisk me to a patch of cement which is within 7 minutes walk of my place.

I should definately implement “multiple topics” per entry. I am wondering about the user interface, however. A comma seperated list? A list box for predefined topics? A dilemma! As for this test post:

  code deleted for aesthetic reasons...

That should make things into paragraphs! I just thought of a possible problem, however. If I were posting boatloads of code, It would paragraphify it even if it were between ‘pre’ tags (or ‘code’ tags). Uff. Ah fucking well.

I have just finished a rather large plate of millet, dates, honey and pears. My stomach is relatively happy. I shall most probably be late to work again since I am procrastinating that diabolical shower thing, but no-one will say a word when I arrive. They will only place aggrivated glances on my back at poisoned times during the day.

This appears to be the first entry in the brand new, fantastic, orgasmic Fucksheep Blog. May more come with regularity. Ooouh, baby.

In my opinion a piece of music doesn’t “require” anything except that it does what it does because whoever made it did it that way. -Bob Drake

onionist (Ashley Spradlin) on November 24th, 2006 04:58 pm (UTC) I love this quote, and completely agree.

Note: The subject line is a quote from 29/1/2006 by Habosh.

It’s Saturday morning in the semi filthy flat I share with Habosh. He is still lolling and groaning in his room whist I sit in the combination kitchen-everything room scribbling and contemplating the tea, bramborovy salat and tuna sitting before me. My flatmate finished off the perfect Indian Pulan I concocted yesterday after stumbling home from one of his thrice weekly pub nights at circa 3.30 (I was already holed up in my room, covered tightly by my duvet, feigning sleep). The result of this is the improvised breakfast (lunch - it is 13.45) before me. I shall take a few tentative bites now.

Not bad, really. I had no milk for my tea (I’m sure Habosh consumed that, as well - again, I don’t mind), so I citronified it. It’s the first time I’ve had black tea with lemon since - er - well, as far as I know, since the dawn of time.

Now that I am writing in this neglected little journal once again, there are a few issues concerning my life I’d like to address. The first is my rampant alcoholism. My dear reader should know it has been a problem in the past, but it has most surely reached a terminal apex these days, and during the past year or so. The crux of the matter is this -> I usually spend four to six days drinking from my waking hour until I finally pass out ten to fourteen hours later, sometimes with incrementally worse pass-out sessions during the waking time. Then, my body slowly starts rejecting the wine / vodka / beer / whatever and cigarettes and I cease.

The next two to four days are spent in recovery or detoxification mode, where my body aches, trembles, has hot and cold flashes, and has an acute pain around where the liver probably is. Oh - not to mention a very high, erratic pulse rate surely combined with a soaring dyastolic blood pressure (I have not checked this for sure, but assume it is so).

Then the cycle begins again.

Usually this is set off by going to a pub with someone - most often Chris.

I am on the third day of recovery at the moment and feeling mas o menos normal. BUT I see Chris tonight at Yukon to play pool. Surely there will be beers. I need to resist from purchasing any other alcohol, storing it in my backpack and consuming it when I arrive home, beginning once again the binge that will eat away my week and destroy my body, whittle it away a little more.

Basically, if this binge - recover - repeat cycle continues unabated, my body will finally quit. Bob will be no more.

I wonder if marijuana has the same effect on me during recovery. In the past, it has not, but Habosh just spoke of rolling a joint and it worries me a bit. It worries me more that I said yes. I have to say NO to excess alcohol tonight. In a phrase: no more drinking alone at home. It is bad news. It is killing me.

Bob: I read that green and black tea help against high blood pressure.

Habosh: Yes, against cancer, as well.

Bob: And against liver failure.

Habosh: So green tea helps protect against death?

Bob: Yeah. Before a gunfight, you should drink lots of it.

I’m awaiting the completion of Habosh’s laptop’s virus scan so I can play a bit on the internet and especially discover if I have any messages or email from my lovely Lucia. I hear Habosh clearly in his room cursing at the one man shooter game he is playing and has been playing incessantly for hours. It is remindful of Jayson and his ilk and their obsession with such things. At least Christian does not partake in such trivialities, though he has his own irritating obsessions - notably conspiracy theories.

I think I am slowly reviving my own obsession with women, what with the receeding alcohol in my system during this recovery period. There s Zuzanka, the sluttish Slovak from Eva’s long ago cottage Sylvestr party with whom I have intermittently kept in touch and who used to frequent my flat near Andel on Sunday mornings circa 1am. She loves vodka. That’s one bad point: I’ll be drinking with her often if we’re together, as we did for eleven hours last Monday. Uff…

I received books from MENSHEVIK this morning after waiting a week expectantly. I began The Long Walk by Slavomir Rawicz and was impressed from the first page. What a brilliant idea the Soviets had to give their prisoners overlarge trousers with no buttons or ties under the assumption that someone concerned with holding their pants up would be less likely to concentrate on escaping!

Music: Neu! - Hallogallo