A fly was buzzing around me all day, bumping into me, landing on the TV screen, taking an unhealthy interest in things I wanted to eat, so when the opportunity arose, I trapped him in the fridge. He had followed me into the kitchen, and when I opened it he just flew right in, so I acted on impulse and there he was. I only kept the door closed for about 5 seconds but when I opened it again he flew right at the window and bounced off it until I opened it and knocked him out the gap. As much as I'll never know what nasty things he might have done in there to all the food, I did learn at least 2 things from this encounter.
1) Flys know where the goddamn window is, they just don't necessarily want to leave. I always imagine that they just don't know what's going on when they spend inordinate amounts of time flying in circles in the middle of a room, but it seems that they do, and they've chose to do whatever the fuck it is they are doing.
2) Flys hate captivity (or maybe just the cold). It can't have been that cold in there after only about 5 seconds, so I'm assuming that when it went dark in that fridge and the little bastard starting bumping off the walls of his cage, he did not like it one bit.
So if you ever find yourself with a fly problem, you don't have to kill them to get rid of them, just trap them somewhere, and their inherent claustrophobia will make them run (fly) for the great outdoors asap when you let them go.
Maybe. I mean I'm no scientist, so who knows, but feels true anyway.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Rest in peace
And then I told him, I said "this is my frying pan, these are my pancakes, get the hell out of my kitchen", but he wouldn't go. And then he started kissing my wife and he ruffled my kid's hair and I thought hells no, this is not right. But then...
but then....
but then... I noticed that my kid was much older than I remembered. He looked about 16, and last I saw him he was 12. That was only yesterday though so what the hell is going on, I have no idea. 4 Years gone. Where? Where did they go? Where did I go?
And why the fuck was this jackass making out with my wife in front of me? Had he no respect? Did Pamela not recognise me? I had had more than enough when I took an ill-judged swing at him, and passed right through him then fell on the floor.
So I'm a ghost I guess. No-one can hear me, no-one can see me and I can go through walls and shit. It's pretty depressing when you think about it. It's very depressing when you think about that Patrick Swayzee movie, as being a ghost isn't like that. I don't get to have weird pottery sexy time with my wife. I don't get to meet Whoopi Goldberg. I can't move things, no matter how hard I try. And worst....there is no fucking light at the end of the tunnel waiting to take me away. I'm just here, alone, all the fucking time.
After haunting my kids for a few months, getting to know the little rascals better than I ever had when I was alive, I finally got bored and went for a looksy-loo around the city. I thought peeking in women's showers would be hot, but it really wasn't. Not even famous women's showers. I don't think I get sexual urges anymore, but if I do, people cleaning themselves definitely does not do it for me.
So I watched everything that came out in the cinema, I hung out at DVD stores and caught people when they were just starting new boxsets and joined in. I tried reading, but trying to get through a book by moving your head through it one page at a time is just not fun, nor is reading over someone else's shoulder at their pace. I went to dozens of circus's and weddings, parties, clubs, and even a few funerals. I became a big sports fan. I tried to see what was at the bottom of the ocean , but it was just too dark down there for it to be a good time. I went to war zones to see the excitement, but it's actually pretty surreally boring if there's no danger to you - just a lot of noise and some random screaming, and seemingly for no reason at all.
I ran out of stuff to do. I was bored. I was lonely, and there was nothing to do about it. I went to the hospital to watch people die and see if another ghost was spat out, but no. It was a pretty messed up experience seeing those people die, so I gave up quickly. I already knew funerals were no better, so I tried cremations and every other death rite I could find but to no avail. The first ghosty thing I can remember is being in the kitchen screaming at my wife's new man, so it's not like I sprung into existence at my death, or at least I don't think I did.
I never found out how I died either. When I was alive I wouldn't know how to find that out, let alone with the zero resources that come with being dead. I went back to find my family and they had moved. I had nothing better going on in my life (death?) so I started living (dying?) with the new family that moved in there and watched the mail. When a letter finally came for my son, I watched it like a hawk to see what they would do with it, and after a week they finally got around to forwarding it. I could have just read the address and found the place, but I was really bored by this time, so I just followed the letter. I spent a night in the postal system, perhaps having the most fun I've had in a while. Sliding down the shoot with all the letters was a hoot anyway.
So I find my son, and he's married now, and I watch him live. It's kinda nice seeing him react to things like I would have, or overhearing him say a few loving things about me every now and then. On my birthday one year, he goes to my grave for the first time (that I've seen anyway) and the whole experience is a bit overwhelming for me. I knew I was dead this whole time, but actually seeing my headstone is a bit much. Seeing my wife weep quietly, and my son gently console her makes me feel less forgotten. It brings back the reality of what I lost, of who I was and why I miss being alive so goddamn much.
I weep. I mean I really sob and wail at my grave. I scream and curse and beg for the life I had. I question and cry and break down like a little baby, unable to control the terrible sad rage coursing through me. I notice my family are gone, and I don't try to find them. I sleep, on my own grave, mournfully, brokenly.
When I awake it's night time. I don't know if it's the same night I went to sleep in or a new one, but then time keeping is always a bitch for a ghost. I start walking towards the gate, but then stop and reconsider.
There is nothing on the other side of those gates for me. I could watch my kids grow up, watch the world grow old even maybe, but why? I can't affect it, and I'm feeling less and less bothered about it all every day. I don't think I even cared that much when I was alive, but I don't remember that so well anymore anyway.
I lie down on my grave, and start sinking. I've gotten good at moving through things, so I guess about 6 feet and stop. I could be in the mud right now, but I think I'm in myself. In my coffin, where I'm supposed to be. I close my eyes and relax. Nothing. No sounds, no sights, no people, no buildings, no living, no dying, nothing. It's actually kinda nice and peaceful. I think I'll try it out for a while.
When the world ends I suppose I'll see it. Or when this graveyard gets dug up. But until then I'm going to sleep in like an unemployed teenager. It's going to be pretty sweet I think.
but then....
but then... I noticed that my kid was much older than I remembered. He looked about 16, and last I saw him he was 12. That was only yesterday though so what the hell is going on, I have no idea. 4 Years gone. Where? Where did they go? Where did I go?
And why the fuck was this jackass making out with my wife in front of me? Had he no respect? Did Pamela not recognise me? I had had more than enough when I took an ill-judged swing at him, and passed right through him then fell on the floor.
So I'm a ghost I guess. No-one can hear me, no-one can see me and I can go through walls and shit. It's pretty depressing when you think about it. It's very depressing when you think about that Patrick Swayzee movie, as being a ghost isn't like that. I don't get to have weird pottery sexy time with my wife. I don't get to meet Whoopi Goldberg. I can't move things, no matter how hard I try. And worst....there is no fucking light at the end of the tunnel waiting to take me away. I'm just here, alone, all the fucking time.
After haunting my kids for a few months, getting to know the little rascals better than I ever had when I was alive, I finally got bored and went for a looksy-loo around the city. I thought peeking in women's showers would be hot, but it really wasn't. Not even famous women's showers. I don't think I get sexual urges anymore, but if I do, people cleaning themselves definitely does not do it for me.
So I watched everything that came out in the cinema, I hung out at DVD stores and caught people when they were just starting new boxsets and joined in. I tried reading, but trying to get through a book by moving your head through it one page at a time is just not fun, nor is reading over someone else's shoulder at their pace. I went to dozens of circus's and weddings, parties, clubs, and even a few funerals. I became a big sports fan. I tried to see what was at the bottom of the ocean , but it was just too dark down there for it to be a good time. I went to war zones to see the excitement, but it's actually pretty surreally boring if there's no danger to you - just a lot of noise and some random screaming, and seemingly for no reason at all.
I ran out of stuff to do. I was bored. I was lonely, and there was nothing to do about it. I went to the hospital to watch people die and see if another ghost was spat out, but no. It was a pretty messed up experience seeing those people die, so I gave up quickly. I already knew funerals were no better, so I tried cremations and every other death rite I could find but to no avail. The first ghosty thing I can remember is being in the kitchen screaming at my wife's new man, so it's not like I sprung into existence at my death, or at least I don't think I did.
I never found out how I died either. When I was alive I wouldn't know how to find that out, let alone with the zero resources that come with being dead. I went back to find my family and they had moved. I had nothing better going on in my life (death?) so I started living (dying?) with the new family that moved in there and watched the mail. When a letter finally came for my son, I watched it like a hawk to see what they would do with it, and after a week they finally got around to forwarding it. I could have just read the address and found the place, but I was really bored by this time, so I just followed the letter. I spent a night in the postal system, perhaps having the most fun I've had in a while. Sliding down the shoot with all the letters was a hoot anyway.
So I find my son, and he's married now, and I watch him live. It's kinda nice seeing him react to things like I would have, or overhearing him say a few loving things about me every now and then. On my birthday one year, he goes to my grave for the first time (that I've seen anyway) and the whole experience is a bit overwhelming for me. I knew I was dead this whole time, but actually seeing my headstone is a bit much. Seeing my wife weep quietly, and my son gently console her makes me feel less forgotten. It brings back the reality of what I lost, of who I was and why I miss being alive so goddamn much.
I weep. I mean I really sob and wail at my grave. I scream and curse and beg for the life I had. I question and cry and break down like a little baby, unable to control the terrible sad rage coursing through me. I notice my family are gone, and I don't try to find them. I sleep, on my own grave, mournfully, brokenly.
When I awake it's night time. I don't know if it's the same night I went to sleep in or a new one, but then time keeping is always a bitch for a ghost. I start walking towards the gate, but then stop and reconsider.
There is nothing on the other side of those gates for me. I could watch my kids grow up, watch the world grow old even maybe, but why? I can't affect it, and I'm feeling less and less bothered about it all every day. I don't think I even cared that much when I was alive, but I don't remember that so well anymore anyway.
I lie down on my grave, and start sinking. I've gotten good at moving through things, so I guess about 6 feet and stop. I could be in the mud right now, but I think I'm in myself. In my coffin, where I'm supposed to be. I close my eyes and relax. Nothing. No sounds, no sights, no people, no buildings, no living, no dying, nothing. It's actually kinda nice and peaceful. I think I'll try it out for a while.
When the world ends I suppose I'll see it. Or when this graveyard gets dug up. But until then I'm going to sleep in like an unemployed teenager. It's going to be pretty sweet I think.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
No reason
Seven o'clock in the morning I wake up and say, "not fucking today world, not fucking today". So I go back to sleep as long as I can, and when I finally awake the world says "now goddamnit, I'm out of patience". So I get up and make a cup of joe, drink the shit out of it and sit down at my desk. I push some buttons, check my emails, post a joke on facebook and think about doing it.
"NOW" says the world, "do it fucking NOW". So I put my key in the machine, turn it, open the box and press the red button. Everything goes boom, just like it's supposed to and there is no more human race except for me.
"World" I say, "was that really neccesary? What was the big rush?".
"No rush really" says the world "I just told Jupiter I did it already and I didn't want to be called a liar".
So now it's just me in a concrete box talking to the planet. I got enough supplies to last a lifetime according to the world, but then a lifetime is subjective, much like sanity.
"World" I try again "Are you telling me I ended everything just so you wouldn't look like a tool to a massive tool?"
"You ended nothing you arrogant little fuck, you just gave me a little cleaning. I couldn't take all those stupid little feet walking over me anymore and now I don't have to, that is all. Jupiter was just a side point. I told you from the get go this is what I wanted, and you said you would do it so bam, it's done and that's that."
"So uh...what now for me? I know we talked about me being king of everything and all, but now there's nothing left it seems kinda hollow. You wanna maybe play xbox or something?"
"For one I don't have hands" said the world irritatedly "and for two, there is no more electricity. Why do you think you're sitting in the dark?"
"For dramatic effect?" I queried, but with no response. I pushed on anyway "So... no power, no people and no outside..for me anyway. This is a pretty bum deal I agreed to hey?
"Well think of this way" said the world "at least you didn't get fired for being insane like you always worried about hey. You got the last laugh on this one buddy, that's for damn sure".
And that I did, that I did.
"NOW" says the world, "do it fucking NOW". So I put my key in the machine, turn it, open the box and press the red button. Everything goes boom, just like it's supposed to and there is no more human race except for me.
"World" I say, "was that really neccesary? What was the big rush?".
"No rush really" says the world "I just told Jupiter I did it already and I didn't want to be called a liar".
So now it's just me in a concrete box talking to the planet. I got enough supplies to last a lifetime according to the world, but then a lifetime is subjective, much like sanity.
"World" I try again "Are you telling me I ended everything just so you wouldn't look like a tool to a massive tool?"
"You ended nothing you arrogant little fuck, you just gave me a little cleaning. I couldn't take all those stupid little feet walking over me anymore and now I don't have to, that is all. Jupiter was just a side point. I told you from the get go this is what I wanted, and you said you would do it so bam, it's done and that's that."
"So uh...what now for me? I know we talked about me being king of everything and all, but now there's nothing left it seems kinda hollow. You wanna maybe play xbox or something?"
"For one I don't have hands" said the world irritatedly "and for two, there is no more electricity. Why do you think you're sitting in the dark?"
"For dramatic effect?" I queried, but with no response. I pushed on anyway "So... no power, no people and no outside..for me anyway. This is a pretty bum deal I agreed to hey?
"Well think of this way" said the world "at least you didn't get fired for being insane like you always worried about hey. You got the last laugh on this one buddy, that's for damn sure".
And that I did, that I did.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
The Age of Swan
Today I decided that I wasn't going to worry about being the greatest anymore. Or being rich. Or being anything but being happy really. Since I quit I've been beating myself up over my desire to start my own business, and my lack of abilities in the are which I want to get involved. Imagining that I could get some of my friends to help out, or that extra effort on my behalf would make all the difference has led me to being disappointed at not being able to bring about a better tomorrow for myself through sheer hard work. So I realised today that I shouldn't kick myself about it. Yes I want to do good in the world, but it doesn't have to be an overnight Facebook size success that I just knock up in my living room.
I'm just gonna get a job doing something I like and respect myself for and work on what I want to do in my spare time. If I can help the world even moderately then my life will have been a success. I think that's reasonable isn't it?
That's today's opinion anyway, and I hope I stick to it. I think something different everyday about the possibility of my success or my inevitable failure, but this seems like a good plan to me.
Also it means I don't have to waste my unemployment time feeling depressed about how lame I am. I mean yes, I'm still going to have the startlingly diminished sense of self-worth due to not having a job, and yes I'm going to still be a pointlessly jealous motherfucker when I can't afford to do things that I didn't want to do even when I could afford them. But I'm also going to take this extra time as a fucking blessing; time to get my life in order and smell the motherfucking roses.
I love my wife. I love my life. These can be good times. I just need to get a job I like and boom, it's the age of the Swan.
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