Ennui
Jesus, I'm bored!
I'm so fucking bored you wouldn't believe it.
I took two extra days off this bank holiday weekend and used them to achieve the sum total of...
Fuck all!
My flatmate went off to Budapest this weekend, on his own, stayed in some hostels, explored, ate, drank and had a good time. He made it sound great, like nobody else on earth could have that much fun in Eastern Europe without also getting laid! Bastard!
As for me, I stayed in my room; listened to copious amounts of rain fall on the roof of my flat; read; ate fast food; fretted about my novel and did only a small amount of writing because of said fretting and met, and bonded through adversity, with my downstairs neighbours.
Firstly, fast food. I've eaten so much useless shit this weekend I can actually fucking hear the free radicals as they proceed to undertake a revolution and violent coup of my internal workings. Before the weekend started I was able to run up the three flights of stairs to my flat with barely a change in my heartbeat. After a weekend of burgers, dirty chicken, delivered curries and pizzas, I wheeze and gasp like a sixty fags a day asthmatic and my heart pounds like a drum kit that has been kicked down a flight of stairs. And I really can see my head getting rounder and fatter as I write!
I wouldn't mind so much if it was a lifestyle choice and I really enjoyed what I was eating. But it wasn't. It was laziness.
Yesterday, I had a choice: walk for ten minutes to my local Sainsburys, buy some nice food, some vegetables, salad, fish and meat or walk two minutes - in my slippers - to the local dirty chicken shop and have a greasy, mayo smothered, chicken fillet burger with chips that were smothered in a vaguely radioactive looking chilli sauce. I took the latter option and felt like a right arsehole when I realised I didn't actually like what I was eating. All in the name of saving myself time - being efficient, in other words.
Do you know what I did with all that time I saved?
That's right. Bugger all. What. A. Tit!
I realised something, though. What is the point of all these labour saving devices when all we do with the time saved is a sweet load of nothing? Do you know what? I think I'd rather spend my time filling my life with useless tasks if it meant I could avoid the spirit and will sapping boredom of sitting around in my room.
I did go out on the Sunday, for a date, but that was sadly nothing to write home about either! I went to a gallery with a girl who, whilst a very nice person, wasn't really my type and didn't exactly thrill me with her personality. But, I can say, without fear of contradiction, she felt the same way about me too. We tried chatting in the gallery cafe after we'd had our fill of the exhibition, but the conversation was fairly stilted and at times I felt like I was trying to draw blood from a stone. She discussed her job, I asked her questions about it, along with a few others about her hobbies, but the conversation was a real stop-start affair with no natural flow, and as I wasn't that attracted to her I found it difficult to muster the enthusiasm to keep the words and questions coming. So that was that! We said goodbye, kissed each other on the cheek, and went off in our separate directions. Oh well, back to the drawing board I suppose.
And at least it got me out of my flat!
One good thing about these days off, though, particularly when you're hanging on by the skin of your overdraft!
I can't wait to go back to work. I'm actually excited at the prospect!
On a further down note: the new series of Big Brother starts again this week. Oh great, more conversations with people at work and after work drinks about the teachings and sayings of a bunch of cunts whose opinions wouldn't even hold water in the boozy confines of a fucking pub. Fandabidozi!
I've been trapped in a flat long enough without also being trapped in a flat with dullards who are trapped in a house!
And now my DVD player's gone on the blink. Great. I'm going to be doing a lot of reading over the next few weeks. Anything to avoid the idiot-fest that is Big Brother.
I'm so fucking bored you wouldn't believe it.
I took two extra days off this bank holiday weekend and used them to achieve the sum total of...
Fuck all!
My flatmate went off to Budapest this weekend, on his own, stayed in some hostels, explored, ate, drank and had a good time. He made it sound great, like nobody else on earth could have that much fun in Eastern Europe without also getting laid! Bastard!
As for me, I stayed in my room; listened to copious amounts of rain fall on the roof of my flat; read; ate fast food; fretted about my novel and did only a small amount of writing because of said fretting and met, and bonded through adversity, with my downstairs neighbours.
Firstly, fast food. I've eaten so much useless shit this weekend I can actually fucking hear the free radicals as they proceed to undertake a revolution and violent coup of my internal workings. Before the weekend started I was able to run up the three flights of stairs to my flat with barely a change in my heartbeat. After a weekend of burgers, dirty chicken, delivered curries and pizzas, I wheeze and gasp like a sixty fags a day asthmatic and my heart pounds like a drum kit that has been kicked down a flight of stairs. And I really can see my head getting rounder and fatter as I write!
I wouldn't mind so much if it was a lifestyle choice and I really enjoyed what I was eating. But it wasn't. It was laziness.
Yesterday, I had a choice: walk for ten minutes to my local Sainsburys, buy some nice food, some vegetables, salad, fish and meat or walk two minutes - in my slippers - to the local dirty chicken shop and have a greasy, mayo smothered, chicken fillet burger with chips that were smothered in a vaguely radioactive looking chilli sauce. I took the latter option and felt like a right arsehole when I realised I didn't actually like what I was eating. All in the name of saving myself time - being efficient, in other words.
Do you know what I did with all that time I saved?
That's right. Bugger all. What. A. Tit!
I realised something, though. What is the point of all these labour saving devices when all we do with the time saved is a sweet load of nothing? Do you know what? I think I'd rather spend my time filling my life with useless tasks if it meant I could avoid the spirit and will sapping boredom of sitting around in my room.
I did go out on the Sunday, for a date, but that was sadly nothing to write home about either! I went to a gallery with a girl who, whilst a very nice person, wasn't really my type and didn't exactly thrill me with her personality. But, I can say, without fear of contradiction, she felt the same way about me too. We tried chatting in the gallery cafe after we'd had our fill of the exhibition, but the conversation was fairly stilted and at times I felt like I was trying to draw blood from a stone. She discussed her job, I asked her questions about it, along with a few others about her hobbies, but the conversation was a real stop-start affair with no natural flow, and as I wasn't that attracted to her I found it difficult to muster the enthusiasm to keep the words and questions coming. So that was that! We said goodbye, kissed each other on the cheek, and went off in our separate directions. Oh well, back to the drawing board I suppose.
And at least it got me out of my flat!
One good thing about these days off, though, particularly when you're hanging on by the skin of your overdraft!
I can't wait to go back to work. I'm actually excited at the prospect!
On a further down note: the new series of Big Brother starts again this week. Oh great, more conversations with people at work and after work drinks about the teachings and sayings of a bunch of cunts whose opinions wouldn't even hold water in the boozy confines of a fucking pub. Fandabidozi!
I've been trapped in a flat long enough without also being trapped in a flat with dullards who are trapped in a house!
And now my DVD player's gone on the blink. Great. I'm going to be doing a lot of reading over the next few weeks. Anything to avoid the idiot-fest that is Big Brother.
posted by The Nothing Man at 28.5.08
5 Comments:
So bored that you blogged? It must be bad :)
Ha ha, yes it is. I think I might be back after a hiatus.
My novel is stuck at 115,000 words and going nowhere fast, or maybe that should slow, and I need to continue writing, just so when I get back to my novel the prose isn't a stilted mess.
But, it's good to be back. Ha ha ha (cue the sounds of mad laughter).
Goodness! You were gone an awful long time. Glad to see you back, and with a whole new arsenal of anger.
I wish you luck on your Big Brother avoidance. Just don't turn on that channel, don't open a magazine and for God's sake don't talk to anyone.
Aloha Marianne and welcome MM,
Fortunately, if I really put my mind to it I can avoid the sheer wretchedness of Big Brother and the losers who populate it.
If my DVD player is working I watch a film instead, I rarely read magazines or tabloid newspapers, and I avoid chat with random strangers (preferring instead to glare at them with my rheumy, red eyes).
NN
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