Truly inspirational. Watch this space.
Truly inspirational. Watch this space.
I literally picked up a hammer and fixed the fucking washing machine once and for all.The bastard had been goading me for months, years perhaps if I’m honest.
I felt better than if I had written my best piece, ever! There’s a wealth of joy to be gained from the common task, tasks that once scared me, challenged my masculinity, allowed me to feel inferior. No more.
“Who’s laughing now you slaaaag?”
I had recently been reacquainted with EastEnders The BBC’s gift to the Great British; one nation forced together by bad weather, worse ‘democratic’ decisions, cynicism and misogyny. Stupid England, you’ve only got yourself to blame for voting back-in your slave-masters for another 5. I hope you all like blue cock.
We need a Dragon Queen.
As a side note, the good people of my constituency, Brighton Pavilion, voted Green. A lone green spec in an apathetic sea of red and blue. I hereby declare the Green Republic of Brighton and Hove, by name and nature. Praise be to Caroline, my Khaleesi, I’ll follow you to the Goddamn grave!
Anyway, back to the show; It’s a misery-fest of epic proportions with acting styles varying from the Olivier to the Muppet. Regardless, and most importantly it now has a spattering of LGB characters and some shit-hot writers. If it didn’t then I wouldn’t watch it, would I? Exactly (you slaaaag..).
Why the fuck was I talking about all that? It’s time for an admission: I have been very unwell for some time now, but I’m clawing my way back; I can’t talk about it yet, not fully, it will be a book someday perhaps, or another blog. Or maybe I’ll just forget, maybe I’ll have that option for once, to just fucking forget.
I’m coming back, I can feel it, the cold grip of addiction and mental illness is finally loosening. Alex is gone. Not dead like I expected, but gone, to Singapore. He didn’t say goodbye.
“Alex is leaving for Singapore in six weeks, I thought you’d like to know mate!”
“What? How come? What?!”
“Promotion…he’s ditching his girlfriend, flat, Dunc’s Wedding, yeah just leaving..”
“In six weeks?”
“Yes, like I said, SIX weeks”
I sat there stunned; I force a celebratory mask over my grimaced, grief-stricken heart. It had been at least a year since I had been in touch with Alex, we had ended it civilly; brutal civility. We knew time must pass before we could even think of seeing each other again. If ever.
“Six..at least he won’t be able to get hold of any coke out there..so soon..but those Asian girls will love him, he’ll have a different one every fucking night..”
“Why’d ya think he’s going there? That and the pay-rise..”
I’d taught him everything he knew about business, communications; reading the dynamic of each situation and reacting accordingly. He was supposed to be my protege; perhaps he was, no he definitely was! This is very hard for my EGO, ahem, sorry I mean ego.
Over the next little while, I daren’t say how long, I’ll endeavour to tell the story of Alex and I. It has to come out sometime, somewhere so why not here? My very first posts on this blog were about him; God, that seems a personality, or two ago!
I wanted him from the first moment I laid my damaged eyes on him; He had what first appeared to be an arrogant air about him, it was actually pure shyness and deep insecurity, my staple diet at the time. How could I resist?
I cry a lot these days. I hadn’t for about 10 years, prior to my, hmm, recent difficulties.
I cry now for me though, not him, finally, just me and my fractured heart, pierced with tainted needles, patched-up with bloodied bank notes.
Ah self pity! I guess I just like the imagery; the reality is just such a dull meaningless, endless pain, containing nothing of merit. Only in writing can it possibly turn in to something of use, perhaps even of beauty.
He was just so beautiful.He was the most beautiful young man I had ever seen. I’m a sucker for beauty, as you know.
“Arrogant though, right?”
I whispered to myself
“Yeah, dangerous this one..but so beautiful..”
That’s all it took.
This I saw the other day and nearly shat my pants laughing. I tried to get hold of the minister to ask him to give me a demonstration, unfortunately he was indisposed.
“How do I get to Oxford, God?”
Crash. The end.
I have this image of a man, his arms wrapped firmly around me; I feel his breath on my neck, it sends shivers down my spine, he whispers cheekily in my ear:
“What do you fancy for breakfast then dickwad?”
“Full Engish, bell-end! What else on a Saturday??”
“Don’t call me bell-end you..nob-jockey!”
“What the hell do you think you are??”
We laugh, because we’re both bell-ends and both riders of nob.
We argue for a bit about who will make the meal because we both enjoy cooking so much, that and pleasing (and being better than the other of course!). I let him do it this time so that I can carry on watching Spongebob.
I fucking love Spongebob Squarepants . Do you think the Spanish call him Esponja Roberto Pantalones Cuadrados? I’ve often wondered that. I hope so.
Anyhow, breakfast is served with a tender kiss then scoffed like Aristocratic pigs. We switch to 30 Rock, Arrested Development or maybe It’s Only Sunny in Philadelphia to compliment the meal. Give me a fine comedy over a fine wine ANY day.
We make love for hours; we don’t dress, we chill all day, individually together. High on love (and spliff).
It’s getting close, I can feel it.
Here is a real work of beauty called In This Shirt by The Irrepressibles.
So many sex dreams last night, I’m glad I don’t wet the bed anymore.
I have two choices:
1) Make love (indifference) to myself
2) Arrange some sex
Arrange some sex you say? Yes! It may be one of the few advantages of being a gay man, if I want sex then I get it. No bullshit chit-chat, no mythical ‘intimacy’, just a fuck and a cup of tea, but today I am tired and can’t be arsed to shower so Chaturbate it is.
Want to see two straight Firemen buddies pleasuring each other for tokens? Chaturbate. Want to see someone self-felate? Chaturbate. Want to see every form of every kind of body, some of which are so beautiful they make me sick, some so vile they make me..sick. Or cum, or both. There’s girls on there too, Trans, groups, whatever takes your perversion.
I think I’ll most likely take matter(s) in to my own hands today; if only my mouth and penis could reach farther, then I’d have no need for anyone.
“Go fuck yourself!”
Someone shouted at me the other day.
I shouted back.
Here is a slightly harder track than the previous two, as I am feeling just so slightly harder myself. It’s International by Chase and Status featuring Cutty Ranks. ‘Ave it large, if you will.
“Write ‘fuck‘ down on this piece of paper or I’ll tell Dad you said ‘fuck’!”
I stamped my feet a little and groaned beneath the weight of the injustice.
“But why, Phil? Why do you have to be so meeeeeaan?”
“Because you’re a little shit that Mum and Dad bought from Oxfam, you were one of those fat Ethiopians before they saved you, that’s why no one loves you as much as me..”
“No I wasn’t! No I Waa..”
“Do it you poofta!”
Tears begin to trickle down my face as I reluctantly ‘fuck’ed the piece of paper taken from the inside of a Cadbury’s Milk Tray box. It was deep purple, I was deep red.
“Daaaaad! Daaaaad! Peter wrote ‘Fuck‘ on this piece of paper!”
Dad was not best pleased and reacted accordingly. A soap in the mouth is like two up the arsehole, believe me.
I haven’t seen my brother for nearly two years, and it still isn’t long enough. I’m not sure how long it will be before I forgive him, but I feel like there is nothing underneath, I think I am most scared that I will discard him forever, God knows I have my reasons.
No one can ever tell you to cut a family member out of your life, you have to do that for yourself. I waited for two years for someone, anyone to give me permission to ditch him, in the end of course only I could allow myself to do the unthinkable.
I haven’t cut him off completely, just indefinitely. For as long as I need. This is not how I imagined my family relations would end-up but as I have always said: relatives are relative after all, right?
It would be much easier if I didn’t live in the same city as my family, most people get to piss-off and only return for booze fueled events, like the virgin birth celebration, or our Lord’s agonising death, softened by chocolate. Easter eggs really aren’t what they used to be though are they?
I wish I felt for my family what I see on TV but life is not like that; we are duped in to depression and feelings of inadequacy by the world’s biggest fuck-ups: Actors. Family is not anything by default, it’s what we put in to it, what we decide.
This is a letter that I never sent to my brother, but it is what I would say to him if there were no consequences, if I could be sure I would never regret it, but we can never know how we may feel in the future. For now I have said nothing, but this is about as honest as it gets. It’s not polished, it is what it is.
How are you?
I don’t feel well enough to write this but maybe I never will, I’m currently going cold turkey off all meds, drugs, even nicotine and caffeine. It’s tough, but it’s time to get clean and build a life again.
A very close ‘friend’ died of an OD not so long ago which sent me back in to a very bad place, just as I was getting much better. In a strange way it was for the best, I wasn’t far away from that not so long ago and I was still attached to him emotionally, and possibly always would have been. Still it’s harsh when there are no words for the kind of relationships I have, no legitimate mourning or recognition.
It’s been a fucking tough couple of years, don’t tell me it has been for you too, because it hasn’t, not in this way, only my life is this way, conversely yours is tough in ways I can’t imagine. The difference is in choice or lack thereof.
The main reason I haven’t been in touch with you is because you have upset me, deeply, not just over the past couple of years, but also in the vivid memories of gay jokes across the dining room table year after year, visit after visit, when you blatantly knew I was gay. Jokes and jokes. Always a fucking joke to you. Why didn’t you ever just ask me for fuck sake? Why not make it easy for me to come out to you? Because you thought I was a private person?
I am not a private person and never was, you just never took the time to see me for who I was past the age of 16. I was scared and alone, deeply alone in the dark for years, with a blind Christian family who are all passive-aggressive head-buriers.
I just wonder sometimes why no one thought to make it easier on me, why no one reached out to me, always the emphasis was on me to reach out to the family. But I was so alone.
I’m not angry, just tired and sad.
Before I came out to Mum and Dad you were all supportive until you found out that they were ‘OK’ with it – I remember clearly your tone dropping as I told you how ‘well’ it had gone. Why was that? I know what I heard in your voice, I’m sure of it.
There was no “Excellent that’s great news Pete!”. No enthusiasm or happiness, you seemed perturbed, bemused, annoyed even. No. There was only “Oh right…” then silence for a little while. Oh right? Fuck you. It was not ‘OK’ with them, it was not easy. It took some serious work to fix things with them, it’s still on-going. Relationships take work, and honesty. I don’t feel I have any of that from you.
Then you were all supportive when I had my (3rd) breakdown telling me I could come to you for support, I was so grateful and relived, but as soon as you found out that Dad helped me financially, what did you do Phil? Couldn’t you be pleased, even relived for me because I wouldn’t be out on the street? No, you thought it was the right time to write yet another letter about how badly you had been treated as a child. How they never supported you financially! How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel? You went SILENT for weeks and I had no idea why!
Were you jealous of my terrible life? Did you suffer so badly? Jealous that you didn’t get what your two younger siblings got? What we got was fucked-up Phil, properly. Take it from me, by all means. This is why I never told you, I never felt I could trust you and although I did everything to prove myself wrong it turns out I was right all along.
I have and would never be jealous of Anna, she is my little sister and I only want the best for her, the very best. I could only ever be pleased for her. But you? Why do you tell her you weigh the same as her and not encourage her instead? Why are you jealous of us Phil? GROW UP MATE!
When have you ever supported any of us? You’re supposed to be the eldest but you act like the youngest. Always glad to take but rarely there to give. Sometimes Susie looks like jealousy personified. Did you learn it from them? Did you catch Hopkinsitis?
You have the ‘perfect’ life Phil!. The life denied to both me and Anna so far. A house, a wife and kids, what more do you want? A sexual identity crisis and three fucking breakdowns? Have them, gladly, but how dare you be jealous of my life-long struggle? It’s almost unforgivable. Almost.
How could you be jealous of this shit Phil? How can you use my life as a commodity, as some kind of emotive currency? You and your wife need to grow up. Some of us have been forced to. You’re just kids raising kids.
How about counting your blessings? All we get is moan moan moan from you and Susie.
“Poor us, we’re so poor, but here’s our new fish collection, extension, massive TV”.
Poor my arse, that’s what happens when you have SIX children. Six?? What’s wrong with you?! Sorry Phil, but really? You both act as if they just happen some how, but you chose to have them, or at least she did, then you want sympathy? With each new one came more and more pressure..for everyone.
You chose your life Phil, to have kids and marry early, no one forced you to, you have security and a family of your own, what more do you want? You cause so many problems and upset so many people thinking you are the one who is hard-done-by. Take some fucking responsibility and ownership for your life-choices. I had NO choice in mine.
The way you two treat Mum and Dad is disgusting. DISGUSTING! I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of their cowardice too in not confronting you both over it, because of the constant emotional blackmail. Phil – you need them a hell of a lot more than they need you so please show them the respect they deserve or be ready for the consequences. You and your wife show so little gratitude to them especially Susie. You need them. Show them some love, if she can’t do it for real then she can fucking well fake it like we all do with her family.
Mum and Dad go through hell for your family. How many years will you resent them for? What kind of example is that to anyone? If I can let go then you certainly can, I would urge you to for your sake more than theirs, don’t let it eat you up inside anymore.
Every time I hear you call that other woman <his Mother-in-law> ‘Mum’ it makes my skin crawl. Isn’t that the same one who didn’t want you to be with her daughter? The racist? You weren’t good enough were you? Then you become their lacky? You should have taken their name when you got married if they are so perfect, and bleached your skin whilst you were at it.
Shameful. You make me feel sad and ashamed when I see the way you are with them, then compare it to how you are with your own parents who help you as much as they can. They may not be perfect, but they are yours and they love you, if only you’d let them. Are the Hopkins that great? No mate.
They are NOT great Phil. They are fucking vile and I bitterly resent every second I have ever had to spend with any of them because of you. Ergh the thought of those awful family events makes me shudder. I can’t stand them, nor can any of us because we are better and we know better, we just stay quiet to appease you and your wife’s moods. I tolerated it while I could, but no more. They represent everything that is wrong with this country, middle-class vacuousness. Pride and Ego. Competition and jealousy. Gag. No more.
I will never attend another event of theirs, ever. That’s your family, not mine, I have the superior model, let them suck on that while they compare cars.
I don’t know where we go from here, I have no ability to humour or bullshit anymore, I’m not sure I ever will again, I think you only get a certain amount of pretense in a lifetime and mine was all used up in the closet.
I do love you. I did look up to you. Did you ever love me?
That’s the point that I decided I would not send it.
He’s my brother..I love him, I have no intention of causing him pain but I can’t let him hurt me anymore either. I must protect myself from those who are too mindless to look out for me and not just their own interests, no matter how they relate to me. Blood may be thicker than water, but it tastes fucking vile.
Life is not ever what we are lead to believe it will be. It’s our own duty to be courageous, to see things for what they really are, not for what we are told they should be, even if it scares the shit out of us.
For now, just silence. Time will tell.
“There’s no fucking margarine or butter in this sandwich..can you fucking believe it?”
“It does say Simply Cheese though mate..”
He stares at his colleague blankly whilst imagining beating him to death with his keyboard, or maybe that weird blue plastic thing that he never used to store anything, or the stapler?
“I know that! But at home if I offer someone a sandwich I don’t ask them if they want lubricant or not, I take it as a given!”
He takes another bite of despair, this time nearly choking on it; he coughs it up on to a manual he was given that morning to learn the latest piece of software that had of course been implemented, badly, at the worst possible time of year.
After cleaning the simple cheese off with his shirt-sleeve he notices a sentence that now appears to have enlarged due to the unforeseen dairy projection.
“To quit the program just press escape followed by #“
Escape…then hash…? He thinks to himself. Escape, then hash! Interesting..
“I’d fucking love to escape then smoke hash..like all day, all the time, probably a nice Indica..some Charas would be exquisite.. “
“What are you talking about? didn’t you nearly just die from cheese?”
“I did, thanks for noticing. Don’t they say that near-death experiences can evoke sudden clarity?”
“Do they? What did you learn? That you’re bad at eating?”
“You’re a nob jockey. I’m off for a gypsy..”
“What the hell is a gypsy?”
“Gypsy’s kiss? Piss?”
“So you’re cockney now are you? I bet you’re really going for a J Arthur Rank”
“I went to the bank yesterday..” He smiles, then winks. He’s not quite sure why.
He saunters down to the men’s room, the one on the third floor that has the potential for possible cock-sightings, through the crack in the second cubicle door. It was time to put his wanking cap on while he thought about the magnitude of the possibility of an actual free life.
The door opens, a sure- footed man walks in, then past the cubicle, settling at the urinal that is best viewed from the box-seat. He didn’t recognise this one immediately; it was clear the man was not of faith nor State and that he had much potential for growth. After a slightly drawn-out expulsion, with an end-shake that teased him in to hoping for more, he was once again alone.
“Could I really just..go? What’s stopping me?”
As he returns to his desk he thinks it prudent to make two lists to help him further decipher if the dream is at all viable. He knows he will favour his freedom but the process must take place nonetheless, it’s just what one does in such moments; he’d seen it on TV enough times to know it was the only way to make a decision of consequence.
1. No wankers telling me what to do all day.
2. Freedom to be a wanker at any time of day whilst playing GTA.
3. I could finally finish writing that TV series, or novel, or articles..
5. Maybe there would be time to actually find a boyfriend, and experience this so called “love” that’s all the rage amongst the gen-pop these days.
6. Do anything I want to do whenever I choose..
1. Financial struggle..
He had a bit saved up, and God knows his debts made sure that his income was more or less swallowed up by ancient excess by the second week of the month ..maybe Bankruptcy! Why not? No house, no car, just a bong and a PC aside from his collection of trainers and Japanese Manga-porn..
“Erm Peter? You’re 10 minutes late for the strategy meeting and Smale is about to fucking flip! Get your arse down there NOW Mr.!”
He looks up slowly. It’s Aisling of course, the overblown PA to the nuclear cunt himself .
He eyes her up and down slowly as a malevolent smirk spreads across his once affable face.
“Would you mind telling Steven to go fuck himself for me please Ling?”
She hated being called Ling, he knew it, her face screws-up like a dehydrated loofah as she turns an obscene shade of magenta.
“And while you’re at it Ling, would you mind shoving yourself up your own arse? That would be great, thanks love!”
She storms off instantly, the once invasive office suddenly deathly silent. He chuckles to himself, heart pounding, face beaming, cock hard.
“What the fuck did you just do??” His colleague gasps.
He says nothing as he walks over to the fridge, steals some butter from an unopened pack, he doesn’t care whose, slowly spreads it on his now not quite so simple sandwich then sits back down at his desk finally shoving the whole half in his mouth.
“Escape then hash..why did it take this long?”