Saturday, April 04, 2009

Saturday 4 April 2009

This morning I emerge from a weird harsh dream that brings to mind many people that have exited my life in the last year. The dream opened with me walking into a covered variation of Colchester town centre. The young bubbly black waitress is there and as ever she is open to me and friendly. As I head to a cash machine/ATM to get some money I notice also getting money from the machine to my left is Mindy. Hovering over her is her geeky boyfriend. I try to avoid her, attempt to hide from her seeing me but we blatantly see each other. Despite this however we do not acknowledge each other and as to who ignores who is open to debate. In an attempt to display I am flying and not suffering I head back to the black girl and loudly do that thing of attempting to make myself sound more cool, more popular and more fun in an effort to extract envy. Of course being so forced and fake this is something I cannot do very real in practise (unlike certain music related people that used to be in my life). My American friend shuffles off with her apparent other half unmoved, this is sadly unfortunately how it is. As I walk away in the opposite direction, not taking up the black girl’s invitation to party with her and her friends (she’s over ten years my junior), I bump into Zoe.

Zoe sees me and Zoe acknowledges me. She is bigger (taller) than when I last saw her but not looking good for it. The vision I see is dominated by her teeth and yellow gums that have diminished. Suddenly the roles appear to have reserved as she is now warmer to me than me her. Regardless of this there is a partner on the scene with a different name to what I believed her new beau to be – has there been another (a change) since? She tells me of a Baker Street gathering (past and present) and it sounds like a fun opportunity of some sort of reunion. We meet up outside a coffee shop just around the corner from where I bump into Zoe. Lots of people I liked from the company are there and no senior types. In comparison to my standing while I was at the company, my current one is now far improved and I feel on more than level terms with these guys. Zoe soon disappears leaving me to sail out the reunion which suddenly moves inside and instead of a coffee shop setting I now find myself in a room that resembles a boardroom and I notice that my enemy from the company has turned up (my Moriarty). I suddenly feel outnumbered and I awaken with a thud and a headache.

It is with deflation that I awaken this morning. The dream took its toll and re-affirms how much I miss certain people from my life but in reality it is just not workable.

The car is stressing me out today. In the past I have had nothing but bad luck with my previous two Escorts so when I decided to get a new car (the Focus) it was with the conscious decision to spend a lot in order to go some degree to ensuring that it be reliable. Just as I hit a good streak financially and am on the verge of clearing my credit card debts this potential nightmare rears its head.

Outside I look and it is the sight of my parents’ Fiesta sat in my parking spot. That car is just too small and too slow. Undaunted however I have to make the necessary trip in it to Asda to do the weekly grocery run. I have to admit things are feeling on top of me today.

Not long after returning home I cancel Chris. My car breaking down comes as the final straw but in reality the replacement bus service on the trains put me off heading to London most of all.

I have to pull myself together.

Originally I had intended to head to my broken car at the crack of dawn in an effort to attend to it but in my lethargic state I find myself hitting the usual routine putting on Jonathan Ross on the radio.

One of the guests on the show today is Mark Radcliffe plugging his new book which I came across by accident in Waterstones the other day. Listening to him on the radio serves to make me pine for the old period where he would do the 10-12PM “graveyard shift” slot Mon to Thurs on Radio One with Lard (Marc Riley) and produce the finest radio. In times when nearly all the DJs on Radio One are awful sycophantic hacks devoid of humour he should be ruling supreme. Well, I guess there is the age gap preventing it. This and the current retarded iGeneration audience with have that seems incapable of appreciating its elders, valuing sincerity/humanity or decoding subtleties in humour.

Swimming in frustration I had so many plans for today but instead I find myself wrestling a headache of harsh proportions before even contemplating or approaching the real problem of my car.

Mid morning my landline phone reasons and as I think (hope) it is news on my car instead I find myself greeted by an Asian (Indian or Pakistani) accent asking me who my energy suppliers are. Is it bad that I am not quite sure whether it is Eon or EDF? I feed the guy some line who then proceeds to tell me that he isn’t trying to sell me anything but does go ahead and tell/quote me who the best three energy suppliers in my area are (Npower it would appear). It all goes in one ear and out the other. He then begins to ask me for my personal details and when I get bored and tell him I was born in 1966 he makes comment that I sound too young to be that old – cheeky cunt. Once he knows my name and address the guy hands me over to an Asian lady who proceeds to ask me for my bank details. At this point I question why she would be wanting these if they were not trying to sell me anything. She babbles something in her Asian drawl and when I refuse to give over the details she tells me it is fine, they will just be billing me instead. Who will be fucking billing me? Bored and pissed off at this point I just go silent and begin pressing the buttons on my phone as if dialling an IRA message. I listen in as stupid voices on the other end of the phone keep repeating “hello? Hello?” How dare those fuckers phone me and waste my (precious) time.

Eventually I head to the broken down car at around 1PM in the hope that the old man has miraculously managed to get it to work/drive. He hasn’t. Originally he thought it might be the battery and now he thinks it might be the starter engine and that all it might need is a “little tap.” He remains far too optimistic as all this sounds much too easy. I am still convinced that there are major problems in the electrics of the thing and that I where I fear it will costs big bucks.

I find myself watching Blackburn v Tottenham on Sky, which is a horrible mess of a game featuring two floundering teams making errors. Its watchable but as a bad example.

Today is the fifth anniversary of Millwall beating Sunderland 1-0 in the semi final of the FA Cup and making the FA Cup Final against Manchester United. That was a truly amazing day and makes for a good beginning in JGRAM WORLD even if I say so myself. I cannot believe that it is five years ago already, it does not feel so long ago, time moves at such a scary pace these days.

With the afternoon now kicking in the inevitable reality that the car will have to go to the garage is realised but by this point most self respecting garages have shut up for the weekend. It’s a drag.

As I debate whether to head into town or not to try and discover a copy of Guitar Hero World Tour Solus I wind up procrastinating by watching Sky TV. When I come across the ever-reliable 30 Rock I am coming across comedy gold as the show only serves to become sharper and funnier with each episode. The guest spot by SNL’s super reliable Jason Sudeikis is cool because he looks like a younger version of Millwall’s manager Kenny Jackett.

Easing my pain Millwall beat Walsall 3-1 today improving recent crap home form and making things even tighter at the top of Division One (the third division).

Back on Sky more football appears in the form of Bristol City v Preston North End. At 5.20 on a Saturday evening who on earth wants to be going to such a match or watching it on television? It never surprises me to see so many empty seats and barren sections when Sky covers such drab fixtures. Bristol hardly appears to be a hotbed of interest and the only personal interest for me occurs when Starvin’ Marvin Elliott comes on as a substitute at the end.

Beyond scamming some dinner at the olds’ wondering what I could/should have been doing in London tonight soon I head home for another crappy quiet Saturday night home alone. I could swear I had a life at one time.

Heading home it is to internet porn and the premiere of An Inconvenient Truth on Channel Four (after the very depressing The Day After Tomorrow is reeled out first). I barely manage thirty minutes of Al Gore before I nod off. So as a result my version of An Inconvenient Truth so far contains the message “its all going to be all right” it seems.

I was hoping the catch the repeat of the Japan: A Story Of Love And Hate documentary tonight but passing out I miss the beginning and when I awaken thirty minutes into it it is at the point I thought most entertaining where the girl Yoshie breaks his glasses.

With this image in my mind I head back to sleep.

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