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depression

Hi!

Phew, ain’t it just been the quietest on here? Is anyone still reading this? I think I asked before. I may back-date some posts if… Read More »Hi!

In Search of Steve Ditko

Well, I needed cheering up. I’ve been suffering from the most abysmal cold/flu bug all week. I still feel rough, and my neck bumps are still a bit swollen, but it seems the worst is finally over.

And to make my diminished mood even better, my DVD of Jonathan Ross’s new show, In Search of Steve Ditko, popped through the letterbox. Yeah, that show I worked on, brag brag, egotism, etc.
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A Farce, You Say?

Hmmm… haven’t felt much like writing on here for a while. Real life gets in the way sometimes, have had a really, really weird three weeks, sometimes very depressed and generally disorientated.

Well, the move to Brighton happened. And about five seconds after, I realised it was a total, fucking mistake. You can’t begin to imagine what an amazing mind-fuck that is. This is what happens if you’re stuck in a too-expensive place on your own—you don’t think things through properly.

How can I detail my problems with Brighton? *sigh* Let’s try a bulleted list…

* I actually have friends in London.
* I miss them.
* It’s not as quick/easy to get to London as I deluded myself.
* It’s even harder to get to anywhere else in the country. Travel from here is just a total pisser.
* I got shit on by a bird for the first time since I was about seven years old within a couple of days of coming here.
* The coastal winds are utterly vicious, especially at night.
* And the nights are cooooooooold.
* Spiders and woodlice and bugs generally… lots of them. Everywhere.
* Nothing resembling a ‘proper’ city locally.
* Most of the buildings are ancient and in a shockingly awful state of decay. Even the really expensive ones. Double-glazing hasn’t been invented here yet.
* Living in an ancient, conversion-job building with a shared entrance and paper-thin walls really sucks. I don’t want to know when someone in the floor above farts, but I pretty much do.
* This Hobbit-hole won’t even allow a single divan through its doors. I still have neither a proper sofa to sit on or a bed to sleep on.
* Fresh coastal air, yes, but tons of earthy dirt and grime and dust nonetheless. Everywhere. Poor pooch Fred had a totally black belly within a week of being here.

And on and on and on. Think you get the idea. Brighton’s a beautiful place to visit, but man, living here is another matter entirely.
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Loose Ends

Well, a goodly amount of boredom reigns supreme today and I’ve been installing some apps. Firstly I upgraded from the Windows Messenger (which I’ve almost never used) to the MSN thingy. Then I installed Skype. Paul was singing its praises some time ago, before I had Broadband, and I think he makes most of his landline calls on it. I don’t make many calls anyway, so I’m not gonna buy any credit for that just yet. I’m registered with the e-mail address in the header above on both, anyway, if that is of interest to anyone.
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Slight Improvement?!

I’m experiencing some emotional turmoil, with various factors ever-present. My employment situation, general isolation and lack of self-belief, etc. They’re big issues, without any obvious answers, and it drags my morale down constantly. It is possible in fifteen years to go from thinking you have tons of creative potential to believing you’re worth nothing. A long cycle of non-success is usually sufficient.
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Success is…?

I think I consider myself an unsuccessful person in most respects. I’m always wary of buying into someone else’s subjective value system; our government would, no doubt, love to ram their values down all our throats forcibly if that were possible. I’m trying to define success on a personal level that means something to me.

Trouble is, even on my own terms, I can’t find much from my current or past life that would qualify as successful (or even especially rewarding, which is probably the best kind of success of all). I’ve wasted half my life treading water. I think my recent birthday still troubles me on that level.

I don’t think I relate to other people very well. Most people are very facile at pretending they’re okay (most of the time), really well adjusted and comfortable, etc. I’m not sure it’s possible for any of us to be genuinely comfortable in this intense, madhouse environment we’re living in. We’ve abandoned almost everything that constituted our default existence, and such profound artificiality can’t possibly hold together coherently. Well, I mean, it doesn’t! I think society is more culturally divided than it ever was, even though more people are straining to pretend otherwise. (Usually, alas, to flatter their own egos rather than to seek genuine change.)
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No Letter From the Queen

Well, hey, I’m still here. No wrist-slashing antics during the night. I’m coping with being an old fart remarkably well. By my standards, that is.

And yes, this comes to you from a new computer, which came Tuesday. Last time I bought a new computer, almost two years ago, it was a second-hand piece of tat due to limited funds (my old old one blew up). So, okay, it’s only a computer… but it sure is nice to use compared to the creaky old brute I’ve been stuck with. 18″ TFT too—sexy! And I can burn CDs now. Of course, without a pack of CDs to play with, that isn’t much use. Today is shopping day, so that situation will be remedied shortly.
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