DAY 1 / 20001125
You were right. I couldn't hack it. Less than 24 hours after vowing to not go online for one whole month, I found myself checking my e-mails. That's all! I didn't do anything else! Just 34 seconds online, to get them, and then off.
    But that's not the point.
    The point is that I caved. I couldn't handle not going online. I HAD to check those e-mails...
    So I've started again. It's 12:30am on Saturday 25th November. In all fairness, I didn't go online yesterday (Friday). But, just so as everything's clearer, I'm going to start this thing NOW.
    So I'll be allowed back online on Christmas Day. Hopefully I'll actually be busy doing meaningful things... But if I'm not, then I'll no doubt be sitting in front of this box, grinning inanely, with a huge hard-on in my trousers, at the prospect of getting several hundred e-mails and being able to chat with my friends who live too far away...
    And that's the nub of it. I feel lonely. More lonely than I can remember feeling in a long time. For you see, when I go online, there's usually at least one of my friend's online at the same time. And so we can chat in ICQ or Instant Messenger... And there're the e-mails; written correspondence with people... And the strange little websites I come across... and the maintenance of my own websites...
    It fills my life up and makes me feel like I have friends.
    So, without it, I feel lonely.
    I know I could just pick up the phone... Call one of my friends... But I can't.
    Anyway.
    This thing will be a journal of sorts, kept sporadically over the next thirty days. No doubt I'll send it out to the people on my weekly e-mail list. And post it on a website...
    See?! Even when I'm offline I'm planning stuff to do online!
    Shit...
    I need total withdrawal.
    I need to go Cold Turkey.
    No computer?
    I guess so...
    No computer at all?!
    Yeah...
    AT ALL?!!!!!!!!!
    That's right.
    ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!
    I'm not going to switch this beast on for the next thirty days.
    At all.
    How will I keep this journal? I guess on paper... And I can type it up for you when the time is up.
    Shit, this is a STRANGE idea. We're talking Through The Looking Glass strange, people. We're talking fucked up out of my mind on Dr Pepper strange...
    But it needs to be done.
    I'm a wreck at the moment.
    My body's doing all kinds of weird shit because I haven't been resting it or feeding it or looking after it enough... And this computer hasn't been a help. I've got six / seven months left of A Levels. I need to concentrate on my studies. I need to sort my pathetic waste of a life out. I need to phone Victoria, get my head straight, go to sleep, wake up, and do some goddamn homework.
    Fuck.
    I've used this thing pretty much every day since I got it back in September 1998. Two years of my life. And now it's going.
    As I said, I'll keep a journal in a little notebook I've got. Maybe I'll type it up for you to read. Maybe I'll discover that there's more to life than e-mailing after thirty days without... And I'll not even want to turn this thing on...
    Computing A Level? I can use the school machines. It's not like I've ever done the work at home before, anyway...
    Sorry, I'm still getting my head round this idea...
    Most all of my music is kept on this computer. So I won't be able to listen to that until Christmas. And the logo I designed for Ian and Michael's band... Either they'll have to wait a while, or they'll have to get someone else to do it for them...
    See, there are a whole load of reasons why I should stay online.
    So as I can talk with Jenny and Zainab.
    So as I can write to Victoria.
    So as I can e-mail Dan's girlfriend about her website.
    So as I can work on my Computing A Level.
    So as I can design artwork for Inertia Reel.
    Lots of reasons...
    Fuck 'em.
    I need to sort out the mess I've made of my life.
    And that takes priority over all else (except maybe V., but even that's looking dodgy right now).
    I can't be sure of anything.
    Fuck this shit.

DAY 1 (later) / 20001125
Talk about over-compensation. So I'm not going to go online for the next month. That makes sense. But not using my computer AT ALL?! That's just plain crazy talk. So I'm back on it, wasting away my Saturday...
    Damn. I just read what I wrote above. And all the thinking behind it has come flooding back. I figured I was just feeling cranky after not sleeping much. But I've had eleven hours of brutal, sweat-drenched, back-aching sleep and it still makes good sense.
    So.
    I'm not going back online until December 25th.
    And I'm not going to switch my computer on again until December 26th...
    There's a problem in there somewhere...
    Whatever, I can finish writing this and then take the plug out of the wall.
    What to do with the rest of my day? My weekend? There is that coursework... And I suppose I could sort things out with Victoria...
    It's raining heavily.
    I need a bath.
    A two-hour affair?
    I think so.
    Where's that notebook?
    Found it.
    Not big enough.
    So here's another one.
    Yellow cover, big spacing.
    I'll write from Day 2 in there.
    It'll be slower...
    My handwriting's shite.
    So I'll print in block capitals.
    This is gonna be one huge gila-monster of a document...
    Why do Rachel and Melsy and Jo and Elaine and Clements all look at me strangely in school? And more people... I don't know their names... Where did all the new people come from? Just lately... I've noticed a whole load of new faces. Someone looks like a guy from my first-school... And they know my names but I don't know theirs...
    Sketches! That yellow notebook's gonna be one mighty fine thing once I'm through with it (plain it is now)...
    Know when I got it? Back in Year 12 (take1). In Physics. I acquired a few exercise books one lesson, when Smyth didn't show...
    Will I use my computer in the next 30 days?
    I'm gonna try my darndest not to...
    Aargh!
    My freeserve accounts get cancelled if I don't log-on using them at least once every 30 days! Would it be okay for me to logon for 10 seconds on each (four of them) in about fifteen days? Just to stop them dying? Or is that part of going cold-turkey... Losing the websites I've spent so long maintaining... ? I'll ask around. Maybe I can get one of my friends to come over and get them to do it for me.
    Assuming I still want to keep them...
    I've made a copy of the Inertia Reel designs that I made. So I can give those to Ian on Monday. And After I've played a bit of Ultra Nibbles, this beast ain't getting switched on until December 26th.



DAY 3 / 20001127
...I guess. I started typing at about 12:30am on Saturday. And now it's 12:30am on Monday. Since I don't want to switch my computer on except when I actually have to work on the beast, I'm back to listening to all those cassettes Jenny sent me several months back. Idlewild and Film for the Future are playing at present...
    This is going bad. It's turning into a... gasp... Diary!!!
    Well, fuck that. This is simply meant to be a journal of... well, what I do without the Internet to waste my time on for 4+ hours a day. That's a whole 1/6 of a day more for me to... live.
    Hoom.
    And I'm wasting some of it, writing this...
    Shit. Will I even bother to type this up? I guess that's what Christmas holidays are for...
    Speaking of which.
    I don't dig Christmas, y'ken? The whole idea of getting people presents just because shitloads of other people do it...
    Oh, you know what I mean. All the regular bullshit I toss out for you. It's clichéd and getting hollow-sounding. But it's still TRUE.
    I DON'T like money.
    I DESPISE capitalism.
    Oh, fuck it.
    Anyway.
    Christmas.
    So Victoria's said she's getting me Curse of Lono. Which is cool. And I have an idea for...
    It's just, I'm against Christmas.
    In principle.
    Presents? Gifts? Giving? Loving? Shit, these are GOOD things. But to cheapen and price-tag them? That's fucked up, man.
    Illegible too.
    How I wish my handwriting was good. Well, legible'd do... Handwriting Night Classes? Hmm...
    I've lost my way (again).
    Er...
    Christmas BAD! Christmas BAD!
    And...
    What happened yesterday?
    Saw some friends (Colin and Cass) who are out of the loop. The loop? You know the loop. The loop of school and all that it entails. People you see every day. Get to know.
    Shit.
    I remembered Yu-Wan Sung and Darren Thomson. They were my BEST friends through First and Middle School. I've not had friends like them ever, before or since. We were SOLID. We were gonna do great things...
    Me and Darren buried a Time Capsule in the summer of, oh, it must have been '92 or '93. Damn... The tears are coming... I know those times weren't perfect. Hell, I remember some pretty bad shit. But, fuck, what I wouldn't give to get it back, you know?
    I'm getting senile in my old age...
    Or sentimental.
    Something like that.
    Dig this; you know how when you're upset? Like, really upset? And you just need to hold someone and cry? No, neither did I. Or, I felt that... but I didn't KNOW that what I needed was to hold someone. It'd never occurred to me... Anyway, I'm feeling that way now. But the person I want to hold... well, maybe another time, eh?
    Fuck this illegible shit.
    Things have the potential to be really good. And to go to total buggeration as well.
    Which is better than grey, I guess.
    I have bathed.
    I am clean...
    Fuckit. Super-Aware. Talk about later.



DAY 4 / 20001128
The computer is back on. I started writing in the book (Day 3 took up four pages). But the effort of typing it up looms like so much wasted time... time better spent doing far more worthwhile things. So I typed up Day 3 and am back listening to Blink 182 whilst writing today.
    So. The idea. 'Tis for a new comic! A shiny, wonderful affair, with Good artwork, an Even Better story and some damn fine meanings behind it all. When to start? Hoom... It must be finished before the 25th...
    Why don't I want to speak to people about everything that matters to me? --------... - ---- --- -- ----. But I don't want to talk to everyone about it. Like other people do. Why? I mean, I get that people are different... It just bugs me, is all. Am I kidding myself? I just need to recall to know I'm not, but the doubts are pissing me off.
    Hallelujah for Saturday.
    I'm still holding back.
    Because I'm assuming that (and writing as if) this will be read by a whole load of people. But I don't have to show them. I can keep this for just me. No-one else.
    I'm falling forward on my seat again.
    So.
    Cut loose.
    -'-- --- - ----------! ----- -- - ---- --- ----- --! ------ --- ------------... --- ---! - ---- - -'-- ------ ---- ---- --- ---- -- ---- --; -----'- - ---- --- ----- --.
    That hits deep.
    And what hurts?
    That I doubt things.
    It was so very real for that time.
    And now it's fading from memory. It's like a dream. It's like it never happened. It's like I imagined the whole thing.
    I was moving too fast. --- ------ -- start over...
    These are not the things to build the confidence of your angst-ridden loner.
    So.
    Saturday.
    --- ----- -- ---- -- -------... - ----- -- ---- --- --- --- ---- - ------ ---- ------ ----. ----- - ------- ------- -- ---- ---'- ---- about people putting on different masks depending on who they're with. And I know I do it. Only two at present. I'm unifying... Two faces. There's old, responsible Caleb, the Eldest Son, the rock in the household who can always be depended on to be calm and collected and to get things done. And then there be regular Caleb, scared shitless most of the time, gibbering to himself in panic, doubting everything, trying to be funny to make things seem not real. And that later one comes across (I think) as funny and quirky... Ah well.
    So I don't have to worry about how I appear. My heart is on my sleeve as it were. All that I am is on display. And if it's not yet, it sure as hell will be, once I've worked it out for myself.
    What I said last time.
    Yesterday.
    About being Super-Aware.
    You know what I mean. When you can see everything happening around you. You can see your motives; you can see what's going to happen. You can see why. But there's nothing you can do to stop it. To wit; people are scum. A given. And whilst I never saw myself as better than this, I did think that my awareness of it could at least help me avoid the worst of it. But it hasn't. I find myself behaving just as all those other people who make me sick with their games and deceptions and lies...
    Too ambiguous.
    What do I mean?
    --------. --- ----- --. - ---- ---. How do I respond to this? I withdraw. - ---'- ---- --- ----. - --- --- --- ------. I fuck things up.
    And I can see myself doing it. But I'm not strong enough to stop myself.
    Which can lead to intense self-loathing.
    Charlotte!
    Goddamn I hate what I've done.
    "I was young! I needed the money!"
    Well, half-true...
    But goddamn I was a fool!
    I could have done so many...
    Well, yes. As could we all. If we'd just known then what we know now. Pointless to dwell? I imagine.
    What's really bothering me?
    I'll tell you.
    I'm bothered by the fact that whilst - ---- ---- - ---- --------, I also have doubts. ----- ------. --- -------- --- ------ ---- --. Thoughts of that nature... --- --- ----. --- -------- ------- --- --- ---- --- --- --- --- -----. And
    Oh, buggrit.
    It's too hard to deal with, now.
    I know what I mean.
    --- -------- ------ ---- --. --- ------ ---- ------ ---- --.
    --- I want ---.
    Bob, how I want ---...
    Which was the initial thing.
    I wanted ---.
    --- --- -------- -- ---- --.
    --- --- --- ----, ------, ---- --- --- -- ---- ---- ------.
    You gotta love a good ol' fashioned... well, let's not add insult to injury.
    -- - ------ ---.
    --- --- -------- -- ---- --.
    --- - -- ------ --- -- ---- --.
    (keeping up?)
    And if I'd been strong, I'd have MADE SURE.
    But I didn't. I was weak. I gave in to my emotions.
    Bob, I ache --- ---.
    Not when I make myself forget. When I make myself watch a film or listen to music... But then something'll remind me -- ---, --- --- ---- ---- ----.
    So.
    This Saturday.
    Make or break time.
    If you ever read this, the Saturday of which I speak will be at least three weeks in the past. And the last three quarters of this document will deal with the repercussions of that day. But I don't know now, what will happen then. And so I hope...



DAY 5 / 20001129
Very, very tired. Throughout. Gonna sleep for a couple hours in the bath. I can't sleep through the night lately. I keep waking up, drenched in sweat, from bad, bad dreams. Nightmares, even. Scary, scary... Sleeping in bed doesn't work, so maybe in water...
    Phones suck goats.
    I have an English essay to write. It shall be done in the style of Mr Thompson. Hoo-hah.
    Return of the Bad Thoughts.
    A good book being read, though. Pollen. Thank you.
    Shadow letters on the wall.
    It shall be a book.
    6.5" by 10.5".
    I need to wash.
    Caleb don't need no more of this.
    Back aches.
    Wake up at 3am and see the time.
    Incomprehensible.
    The power keeps dying.
    Out of
    Time.
    Victoria? Who?
    Internet? Bob knows no Internet.
    Music? Loud.
    Caleb ain't got time for this Mickey Mouse bullshit.
    Dreamweaver by Gary Wright. Listen to it. But only after watching 'The People Vs. Larry Flint'. Listen to it first and it'll sound trite. Listen after and it'll melt your mind.
    Made some good tunes.
    Going to explode.
    Like chocolate.
    Fuck her.
    Fuck them all.
    They're not worth it.
    It hurts too much.
    I just want to sleep...
    But I can't anymore.
    Not properly, anyway.
    Which is nice...
    Shadow writing. You know it? I got it nearly all right...
    Saturday = Judgement Day.
    Terminator 2? A good film. Gorgeous soundtrack
    train
    timetable
    chair
    electric
    electrickery
    crank
    Ford
    Gerald
    Richard Milhous Nixon
    corruption of a dream
    no sleep
    sleepers
    train track
    gorgeous sounds
    Terminator 2
    Judgement Day
    Saturday.
    Circular thinking ^_^
    Were I to end it, no-one would notice.
    Why do they look at me strangely?
    Grow up.
    Now.
    Or just sleep.
    Shadow writing.
    Writing BAD! Writing BAD!
    Hmm...
    I need to get out of now
    Too many bad memories. Taking over. I can't stop them.
    Too many memories.
    I know too much. And not enough, obviously.
    Too much.
    Bleed it all away.
    Read in the bleed?
    Maybe...
    I need to get out
    I'm writing in circles
    in trips
    of eight
    I am not a happy bunny
    get out
    Outstare the man.
    Reach inside and outstare.
    Don't blink.
    Don't turn away.
    Outstare.
    A toaster in the bath?
    way out
    where?
    up ahead!
    where?
    just there
    where?
    here
    i can't see it. where?
    come on.
    where is it?
    bye.
    where? hello? you there?



DAY 7 / 20001201
Another bath! That's what I did when I finished writing last, and that's what I'm going to do when I finish writing now...
    Temptation, people! My sister was just on the Internet... She left it plugged in... the fecking computer switched on! All I would have had to have done would have been to log-in as me and then all those lovely e-mails could have been mine...
    But I was strong. And so the Being Offline continues. Seven days! Only twenty-three to go! But you know what? I'm not actually missing it as much as I thought I would. Sure, it's an inconvenience. I keep saying to people "yeah, e-mail me it..." and then realise that I won't get it (information, games, phone-numbers etc.) for about a month... But I'm not actually missing Being Online. I'm getting as little sleep as ever. Not doing any homework at home, again as ever. So all that's changed is that I'm on my computer a bit less than normal. Hmm.
    Meeting various peoples tomorrow. Not quite sure who, yet. But it'll be confirmed by, oh, midnight? Probably.
    The Comic With No Name has also finally got underway. I've got myself a good structure and some rather interesting ideas. Now to get the thing written and drawn... It will happen in three weeks! Shit... Three weeks (fourteen days) of school left. And I want to use the school (free) printers... I've got to get to work!
    Modules? Marmaduke knows no modules.
    Bathtime!



DAY 8 / 20001202
Well... that was a lousy day. I feel like shit. I'm cold and empty and I need to sleep for a few weeks...
    Why is this? I just spent the day with some friends and my girlfriend. And I was actually having a good time. Until about 3pm. Than everything descended into unutterable badness.
    Why?
    I don't know...
    Which is making me angry.
    Fuck them all. People like Ian and Tessa assume I can be open with them. Bollocks can I. They assume... I assume they assume that they have a right to hear me bare my soul. They don't. No-one does.
    I'm falling into all the fucking stereotypes. And I know it. --- -------. ----- -- ----. Et cetera.
    And I know how to make the hurt stop.
    I know.
    It's very simple.
    So simple.
    But I don't want to. If I do it, I'll be closing a part of me down. Shutting / cutting it off. And I don't... But it would make things better. If I were to go Cold. If I were to give into The Way of The Bastard. If I do that, I can dismiss all this shit as ----- crap, ------ ----- --------, and get on with being a complete and utter prat.
    And that is so tempting.
    But I don't want to think those thoughts...
    Why didn't --- ---- --?! --- ----'- --- ---- -- ----?! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. ----'- -- ---- ---? --- ------ ---- ---, ---- --- --- ------, --- ----- ---- ----...
    And what in Bob's name is wrong with me? --- ----'- - ---- ---? --- ----'- - ---- ---? What the FUCK is WRONG with me?!!!!
    Shit... I just waved goodbye! I was in my body and I couldn't get out. I was stuck inside my head, beating my fists on the panes of my eyes, screaming at myself to get myself together. But I couldn't break through... I was stuck.
    Oh, ---- ---.
    Caleb has NOT got time for this Mickey Mouse bullshit.
    Sure, the fucker wants ---. But that's 'cos he's weak. And weak ain't no good.
    So forget ----- ---.
    ---'- ---- ---. ---'- ----- -- ---. Fuck, don't even think ----- ---. You're falling into everything you thought you'd never be in a man? Fuck that as well. What did you know? Nothing. You were just a snotty kid. And you still are. But you can make sure as hell that you don't ever feel like this again.
    Forget ---.
    Get your fucking act together and sort it out.
    Try and understand your motivation? Shut up! That's just ----- crap. Be strong. Ignore your feelings.
    Fuck...
    You know (think) why --- --- ---- --- ---... Fear of ---------... FUCK!!!! I don't care!!!! Can you not dig that? Can you not fucking comprehend?
    I don't care ----- ---.
    Really?
    No, not really. - ---- ---. - ---- --- -- ----...
    But what good'll that do me? ---? None. So. Denial. Deny ---- - ---- --- - ---'- ---- -- ----. I can ignore.
    See, a while back, I'd never have considered this. I knew what was going on. I was with it. But now? Fuck it all. I can't do anyone any good. I'm a wreck. Why don't I kill myself? 'Cos I'm too fucking pathetic.
    Why didn't I ---- ---?



DAY 9 / 20001203
Damn. I've just spent the last 24 ours or so in a non-stop HTML binge...
    I meant to go to sleep after writing yesterday's entry. But I started designing my new MSP site instead. And now, over 24 hours later, with just a bit of sleep in the middle, I've finished. And whilst I cried myself to sleep last night, I'm now totally stone cold.
    Which seems to be what I was aiming for.
    Tasty.
    Thank Bob for my means of escape.
    And, incidentally, the design of this new site is rather brutal. One of the best sites I've designed so far... It'll be up by the time you read this, so go have a look at www.megasad.co.uk.
    Damn... 'though I've not gone online for over a week, I may as well have this weekend, for all the work I got done...
    Ooh! And I've worked out why I was so upset yesterday. It was this enormous, gaping, bleeding sense of loss.
    Loss of what?
    I'm still working on that...
    But at least I know what the feeling was!
    Last night, I hated --- smell...
    It was a stench that I couldn't get out of my head.
    Now it's gone. Huzzah.
    An amendment to yesterday:
    After ------ ------- I went and sat down round the corner, trying to break out of my head. And a few minutes later I got out, and went to find ---. And ---'- gone.
    I need to go to sleep now, so as I can wake up in time for school tomorrow.



DAY 10 / 20001204
The bath is in use, so I have to have a shower. I'll go do that after I finish writing this.
    I just finished reading Pollen. 'Twas a good book. But the ending lacked any kind of impact whatsoever. Which may have been Noon's intention... I just didn't enjoy it.
    Afternoon. My dad asked what time a customer wanted him to go fix their washing machine tomorrow afternoon. They said after 12pm... D'oh-eth!
    This whole ignoring thing isn't really working. In that I can't stop thinking about ---. But I'll give it another few days to see what happens.
    The "Carry On..." movies sucked goats.
    My dad thinks it's a joke that I want to read Philosophy at university.
    He says I should be an accountant.
    Wonderful.
    By the way, I'm washing to get the dirt off now, as opposed to washing to stay clean. And I'm seriously considering shaving all this stupid hair off of my head. It's getting on my nerves. Bald and clean-shaven sounds fun.
    Time for good ol' paranoia...
    I'm half convinced that -------- -- some kind of punishment for crimes I'm going to commit in the future. ---'- everything I want. --- --- started out as seeming like --- ------ --. But since then it's got worse and worse, until now I feel rather shitty. And the thing ----- ---... well, that was something I'd imagined for a long time. And now it's real. And I have sod-all idea how to deal with it.
    Well. I think I'll cut that off right there. It being bollocks and all. ---'- ----, - ----- '------ ------, ---! --- -- ----, I have no idea what's going on -- --- ----. I joke about being lazy? I am. This whole caring--------------------- thing is really draining me. And I can't be having with it. I'm scared? Sure. It takes time and effort? Far too much. And so I shall be weak a while longer (as I was when - ------ ---) and give in to my true nature. Laziness abounds.

DAY 10 (later) / 20001204
Yeah, like fifteen minutes...
    Fuck washing. I'll have a good ol' fashioned bath, tomorrow. Showers just don't do it for me anymore. I needs to gets me some of that sleep-under-water-for-two-hours action. That thar hair's gonna be muy greasy tomorrow... So shiny!



DAY 12 / 20001206
I bathed and shaved. But I think a got a bit carried away... I no longer have any side-burns. D'oh-eth. Ah well, it looks funny. And at least I didn't get rid of the eyebrows as well. In fact, I look like a girl... Or at least, I can make my face look rather feminine by looking in the mirror in a certain way. And it rocks SO much. Damn, I want to be a girl, even if just for a few weeks... Ain't too likely to happen, though. But I could ask for some lingerie for Christmas... that'd feel nice. Like, under my clothes at school...
    Hoom.
    It took far too long to shave my face. I think because I was foolish, and didn't bother to cut any of it off with scissors, first...
    I want to wear hair-clips, pretty ones...
    --------. Smeg. I meant to ----- --- ---- -----. But I spent two and half hours in the bath and then I watched 'The Hunt For Red October' (a very good film, by the way)... and now it's 12:35am on Wednesday. Smeg. What's going on there, eh? Why'm I being all reclusive and the like? It's regression...
    On November 11th, ---- - ----- --- --------, I was in a bit of a wreck. Far too little sleep, running 'cos of being late, et cetera. Anyway. My barriers weren't up. You know? My affectations and the like. --- --- ----'- ---- --. So I didn't feel under any pressure to even bother putting up my walls. And because of that, I gave in -- -- --------.
    Had I been operating under 'better' circumstances, --'- ----- ---- ------ (-'- ---- ------ walked away), --'- ----- -- ---- -------, and I'd never ---- ------ ---...
    Which would have been a bad thing.
    But far less confusing.
    Or I could have pretended like -- --- --- --- ---, --- ---- - ----'- ---- --- -- anything, and ---'- ---- forget it.
    Shit, how I wish I'd done that...
    Ultimately, I don't know what's going on -- --- ----. How to remedy this? Fecking talk -- ---! But the phone's shit. Which is why I need to --- --- for real. And Saturday was a bust, 'cos there were other people there.
    (Speaking of which; Colin = Bastard (cheating, scheming, wanker), Gemma = annoying.)
    So I'll phone --- ----- tonight. See what happens. 'Cos if --- -- ------ ----- --, I need to shove that pain deep deep down inside of me as soon as possible. So as to get on with life. And if --- ---- (------ I'm thinking not)... well, we'll see.
    Why's Colin what I said? He plans, over New Years, to have a small party. To invite Ian, Gemma, myself, Victoria, David (Kockel) and Michelle. And to get us blokes drunk so as he can shag Gemma, Victoria and Michelle. Which sounds very funny... until you realise he's serious. This sick fuck actually plans to shag the girlfriends of his friends. And that's just wrong. Sure, he jokes about not feeling guilt. But I always figured he was an okay guy, you know? Bollocks is he. So (-- -- --- -------- ----- ---- -----) I have a slight idea of what to do; ---'- --- ----- --- --- --- ----- ------ ---- -- -- -- ------- ---- -------- --- -----... Which doesn't seem too likely... But still, hope so.
    [spunge] are playing right now. And they truly are a fine band. Almost makes me wish I had gone to see them last Friday... But not much. I don't like sharing music, even with the artists. Too much of a recluse. When I listen to music, my walls are right down. And I don't want other people around when that happens. It's led to some crazy shit...
    So, last Saturday. Colin and Gemma were around. I was rested and relaxed. And so the walls, they returned with a vengeance. ----, - ------'- -- ---- -- ----- ---... Why wasn't I ------- --- ----, -----? Because I was too fucking scared, okay? Not of --- ----... Of being seen without my walls. I was fine with that when I was ---- just ---. But around people who already knew me... well, that's a whole new thing going on right there.
    So I should probably try fixing this... It's that whole Super-Aware thing I'm sure I half remember writing about somewhere or other... Where you Know what's going on (please forgive my use of Capitalising every other word; it's for emphasis in this unformatable Notepad world), but can do sod-all about it. Or you can, but don't want to. Even though you do. If you see what I mean. And I'm sure that you do.
    I don't like being vulnerable.
    But when I last was, some damn fine stuff occurred...
    Which has gone all bitter and twisted since then...
    Can you dig my confusion over the affair?
    And what do I do when I'm confused? I revert to my old way of being. Which is to say, Lazy. Don't do anything and nothing can hurt me. Or something like that. I don't ----- ---, everything's cool. Which is blatantly bollocks. Even in my addled state, I can see that. But it doesn't stop it being easier than having to deal with reality.
    But I don't like being weak...
    So I'm going to try and fix this.
    Or at least do the right thing.
    So at least I can live with myself.
    And at most... well, maybe another time, eh? ^_^



DAY 12 (later) / 20001206
Goddamnit. - ------ ---. --- --- --- -------- ---- -- -----! It was only 10:30pm, for smeg's sake! Grumble grumble...
    Why so late? Well, I was watching 'Twelve Monkeys' and that didn't finish until... so I guess procrastination can be a bad thing... Tomorrow! Definitely! And no faffing about until late at night! We're talking Early Evening here, people.
    So I went on the Internet.
    WHAT?
    Relax, relax, nothing like that. I was just refreshing my freeserve accounts. Which meant I logged on, and then off, using me numerous accounts. Why? I told you already; if I don't use them at least once every 30 days, they get wiped! And that can't be a good thing. So I was on for a few minutes and just renewed the critters. And got like 46 e-mails or something. About half of which were shite. But about 20 left to reply to. But even if I do, I still won't be sending them until after the 25th. On account of having NO reason to go online now, at all.
    Hoom.
    'Twelve Monkeys' was very good. I noticed way more about it than I remembered.
    Smeg... it's only 11:50pm. I could sleep early and wake up bright and early for school tomorrow! Yeah...
    I am a rarity! At least, 'round school... people are surprised to see me. When they do. In a good way? Not entirely sure...
    I needs to gets me some of that sleep-type action.
    But first...
    - ---- ---- - -------! It's not good! Gnargh... I need to sort it out, dagnammit!
    Dagnammit?
    It's a word.
    That's been exchanged with Jenny for "La di da". A fair exchange? I dunno... I can't use la di da as much. But it does have a greater impact.
    The fecking stubble's returning... I only just shaved last night! Fecking heretics... this is why I stopped (shaving)! It just keeps on growing back... you want to stay smooth-shaven? You gotta shave every day! Fecking evil, I tells ya. Will it return? Not just yet. But maybe when I run out of razors (six / seven left).
    Best tape ever, on my shelf. A 240-minute one, with Deep Cover (brutal soundtrack, delicious film) and Johnny Suede (goddamn strange) on it. Two Really good films. It's good.
    The bus-driver got way stressed today. And everyone was ripping on him. The fecking brats. Don't they realise bus-drivers are people too? Sure, he was a prat. But did they think why? Shit, he was probably under a whole load of stress or something... remember that kids; you don't automatically know why people behave the way they do, so reserve judgement until you find out. Else I'll smack you silly for being a fool.
    I need to get some conditioner as well. Been scrounging off my sister for the last couple weeks... not a good thing. So I'll go out and (shock-horror) buy some this weekend. 'Cos I sure as hell won't be doing anything else worthwhile.
    Shit, only 30 seconds left. And I don't want to write into another day. 'Night.



DAY 15 / 20001209
Of being offline? No, not really... I'm back on. Why? Well, the initial point (of going offline) was that I was going on the Internet too much. Like 4+ hours a night, every night. So I quit to get back to reality. And reality blows. Does it? Yeah, a little bit. But, also, I wasn't getting the coursework done anyway (another reason for it), and so I was basically just losing touch with Jenny and Zainab and some other people I talk to via the Internet. Going offline means less contact with real people? Strange...
    So should I send this out, now? There's some shit that's still unresolved... releasing this as is might have dire consequences. So I may leave it for a few months, until all that has been said here is invalid. Or maybe I could just cut out the pathetic bits... We'll see. I'm thinking of keeping this going, anyway, as a kind of diary. For it is good to be able to write about whatever I think.
    Talked to Jenny for three hours this morning. And I may be living with her and a couple of her friends next year, when I go to university... Just have to pass those pesky A Levels... And yay, that'll be rather good. For I will be (i) away from stinky home and (ii) living with Kenny (a really rather cool person). Natch. I have reasons to do well at A Level! Real, tangible reasons. Hot dog!



DAY 16 / 20001210
So I need to sort some stuff out in my head.
    How do I feel ----- --------?
    Right now, I'm rather indifferent ------- ---. For the first week or so after November 11th I couldn't stop thinking ----- ---. - --- ---- -- --- - ---- (- --- -- ---- ---- ---) --- -----'- -- ----- ----- -- -- ---. But since then, everything's gone to shit. - ---'- ---- -- --- --------, ------ ------- ----- -- ------ -- even in life. So I'm guessing ('cos it's all guess-work) that ---- - ---- --- --- ----'- ----. -- -- -- ---, it's gone now. It was probably just ------. Strong, monster ------. --- ------ nevertheless. It wasn't based on anything substantial... ---, ----, ---- ---------! I just can't... When I remember what happened... --- - ----, --- -- ---- seemed to ----...
    Well, I have very little experience in this field. As is proving painfully obvious. I'm sure that if I'd simply ------ ---- ----- ----- before / since then, I'd know whether what happened mattered or not...
    When I've trusted my instincts in the past they've invariably been correct.
    And when I've ever tried to ignore them, for good or ill, it's backfired on me, big time.
    What do my instincts tell me?
    ---- -- --- - ---- -- --- ------ -----. A one shot deal. --- ---- - ---- -- --- out of proportion -- -- ----. - ------------ --- ---------- --------- ---- --- nothing more than ----. ----, -- --- the first ---- -'- ----------- --. -- - --- ------- ------ ------- --------. --- at the time my instincts were fucking blown out of the water. - ---- - --- -- ----. And I was so sure ---- --- ----- --. But now I get the distinct impression ---- --'-- ---- ---- ------ -- hold on -- --------- ---- ------ ---- ---- --- free ---- -- ------- ----------. ---'- ---- --! ----, - ----'- ---- ---- --- ----- -- ---- - --- --. --... - ----- ---'-. -- --- ------ - expect --- --?
    I shouldn't.
    And though I also get the distinct impression ---- -- ----- ---- ---- something, --'- ---- ---. ------- -- -- -- -----. ------ I really should have cottoned on ----- --- ----'- ---- -- -------- ---- -- --- -- ---- ----... You know? - ------ -- --- --- -- --- ------; --- --- ---- --------. I mean, I get that. --- -- ---'- ---- --- ---- --- -- --, ---'- -- --- ---- ------ -- -- ----. -- -- --- - ----- --- -----. Beautiful imagery going on there...
    --- --- -- --- --- ---- --- same way - ---- ----- ---. But now I've made myself --- ---- ---, -- -- ----. -'-- shut that bit of me down. --- ------ - ---'- ---- ----- --- ----- ---- - -------- --- --------- -- -------- ----, ----, - --- make myself realise that it won't happen again --- ---- ----.
    Now for some other stuff...
    --- ---- -- --------, --- ---- -- -----, --- --------- ------------) -- ----; -- ----- -----! ----, -----'- ---- --- ---- ----- -- ----... --- ----'- ---- --- ------ ----- -- --------'- ----... --- --- ---- ------ ----------------. -- --------'- ---- --- -----'- ---- --- ------------------... Fuck, this is BAD shit to be writing. So as I say, if this ever does see the light of day it'll be in a LONG time...
    I've got to get over this fact; ------- ----- ---- -- --- does NOT mean ---- --- --------- -- ---. Or even that there's just --- ------ -- --. Fuck... ---- - -- -- --- ---- ----... -'-- -- ------ ---- ----- --- --- ----- -----. --- -- ---- - -- ---- -- -- --- ---- -----. But, as I said, I have to remind myself that day-dreams don't reflect reality. Well, fuck... we'll see what happens -- - ----- ----, eh?
    Damn. I'm sitting here, stinking of grease (hair) and sweat and other, even less savoury odours, all hunched over my computer, lights out, curtains drawn... listening to [spunge]...
    Interweb BAD! Interweb BAD!
    But so very, very good as well. I met Kenny through it! I met Zainab through it! Damn...
    - ---- -- ------- ------ -- ----- -- ---- ----- -- --------. ---- ---. --- ----- -- ----- -- --? --- --- ----- --. ----'- ----? ---'- --- ------ -- ----- ----- -- -------? --? -- -- -. ----'- ---- -- ------- ----. -- --- ----- -- ---- --, ----'- ----. --- --- ---'-? ---- ---- --- ------- ------ ------.
    Smeg! Only a couple more weeks till Christmas! So if I want to write that comic I really need to get a move on...
    Do I want to?
    I had the most amazing dream yesterday afternoon. It was a comic. And I could see every page, read every word... It looked good, it read good... it was all from my mind! It was blinding... and then I ate chinese food and can only remember a dim outline of it. And what I remember sounds shite; a little girl who has something that can stop this fleshy dragon type thing from taking over something. But he didn't want to do it, he had to be persuaded... fuck, that's Tremors 2 butting its head in...
    So.
    - -- --- ---- --------.
    I have an unhealthy obsession with cutting up -- ------ ------- into different ------- and mixing and matching until I find something to please myself.
    I SO want to be a girl.
    I stink.
    I'm lazy. I want to sleep forever. But then I remember ---- --- ------ ---- ---- and then I want to study but still don't...
    Raccoons!
    I need to fly.
    To sleep I go.
    After Room For Abuse has finished... After all, that was the reason I got out of bed at 3:40am. After tossing and turning, as it were, for a half hour.
    Tune out.

DAY 16 (later) / 20001210
'Bout to have a bath. It's 9:10pm, so I won't be out until, at the earliest, 11pm. I like having long baths. I invariably fall asleep, if only for a few minutes, with nearly all of me under the water, maybe just my nostrils sticking out. It's nice.



DAY 22 / 20001216
Went to see Ian and Michael's band yesterday. Jude and Rees' too.

Inertia Reel:
LEAD GUITAR - Ian - Fucking amazing
BASS GUITAR - ? - Damn good
DRUMS - ? - Very good
VOCALS - Michael - Tone-deaf; sometimes he'd get it right, and then it'd be good, but the rest of the time it was just painful. He needs to learn how to SING.
OVERALL AS A BAND - Work really well together. Just need to sort out Mike's singing and they'll be set.

Clean Shaven Elbow Warriors:
LEAD GUITAR - Stuart - Bearable; not actually any good, but he seems to kinda know what he's doing.
BASS GUITAR - Jude - Pretty good; and funny (in a good way) when singing; he's so little!
DRUMS - ? - Fucking amazing
VOCALS - Rees - Potentially good; far too nervous.
OVERALL AS A BAND - Mostly okay as individuals (the drummer being brilliant), but terrible as a band. No communication going on whatsoever. They're just a bunch of blokes playing at the same time. And the scripted interludes were a bit cringe-inducing.

So. If I were to manage them? And Shohan's band as well? I'd get Ian and the bassist from Inertia Reel, the drummer from CSEW, and Shohan himself on vocals (for he can SING), and Michael (and those others who are good at it) writing lyrics. Inertia Elbows? Clean Shaven Reels? I don't know... But they would ROCK. And I'd get a huge big fat 50%, so everything'd be wonderful ^_^

Anyway...

--- --- ---- ------ ---- ------- ---., --- -------- ----'- -----, so I was getting all antsy. And I beat Colin at pool, and found a great huge mother of a coat (which I shall be wearing for the remainder of the winter)... So it's pretty good. Talked to some people I haven't talked to in a while (well, Melsy), and found out that the Burry(sp?) replacement is called Alec Ross. Ha! Like the artist! (Alex Ross).

Some people were very mean to CSEW, about their nervousness and guitar-string-snapping incident... and that just wasn't nice. I felt like growing a huge bony forehead and just headbutting them all until they apologised. But I was kinda occupied with sitting still, doing nothing, so maybe another day, eh?

49 (next weekly) shall consist of selected extracts from this journal doowacky. I'll exclude the bits I don't want people to read. In this way, I'll have another huge monster of a weekly to send out. And they're always fun.

In fact, I'll go do that now. Beetlejuice is on in a hour and a half, so I must get underway with the editing.

Onwards!





~





POSTSCRIPT-
Bits were cut out. To be filled back in; probably never. Hope you enjoy this beast. It took long enough to proof-read. Spot any mistakes? Fuck off. This thing's finished. Sealed. Delivered. See you in 50.