I Look Like Jerry Springer!

MY FRIEND MOTHER HUBBARD tidied up my hair, which I cut off Saturday in four hacks of the nail scissors. It had grown into a longhair gormless hippie-curtains look that really didn't suit me. Made me look like that old wino in Shameless more than anything... I don't regret cutting it one single bit (not like I thought I would). The asymmetry is gone, but I'm thinking when I do get it cut next time I might go for an asymmetric style. Let's face it, that's about the last chance I'll get before I'm too old for that kinda thing... Looking down at the long haircroppings I'm surprised what a rich-'n'-shiny chestnut brown they are. Precisely the sort of colour you'd find on one of the darker dye packets. When I was little it was so light it went almost white in summer. Now I think of it as "mouse". I don't know whether to leave it be colour-wise or else go for blond (dead easy ~ it still bleaches naturally in the sun ~ that streaky surfer look ~ and would be fairer if only I'd not kept it covered practically 24-7 with a hat because I hated that longhaired non-style so badly). Now I look something like Jerry Springer, though I have to say every time I stare at it in the mirror I'm telling myself this is too long. The only shade I can think of is dark red. I'm just not 100% sure. I don't want to go round looking like a heroin-addicted lesbian...

I'm getting more and more wound up these days. I woke up this morning at 7am which was exactly an hour and 20 minutes earlier than convenient for me. I was in a sweat and feeling weary, ill and cold. I drank all the methadone I'd saved for this eventuality and yelled and threw the measure across the room. I'm getting more and more wound up lately and wish there was some way of loosening up. As I said last post I've found myself screaming and banging my head on the wall and I can't forget it because there's a horrible mark in the cheap plasterboard where I'd smacked it so...

Mother Hubbard let me bury Itchy in her garden where various people's ashes lay "at rest" (so she says) and various cats. I helped her bury the last one. He was a beautiful ginger tomcat who ruled the local streets. Her husband says he's found him roaming the mainline railtracks, which are the best part of a mile away. He mee-yaowled at him, hopped up on the platform and accompanied him home like a dog... She gave me all tissues and a paper bag to put Itchy in but in the end I trowelled out a hole a few inches deep and put her straight in. Why pad her out and make a great mound out of it? I put her straight in the earth, the way I'd like to go. Hopefully nature will take its course as quickly as possible.

Both had a good look at her and were amazed at how tiny she is. Itchy and Bashful are both like that, not round like "proper" roborovskis (as Spherical is) but more bullet-shaped like babies. They're hardly short of food, but nothing I've tried ever seemed to build them up. They stayed tiny and Baby Itchy was tiniest of all... I've been told they were probably "runts". Poor swines!

I've already had half a gram of heroin this morning and done most of the food shopping. One glance in the mirror ten minutes ago and I looked mashed out of my head. That's the great thing about junkie semi-retirement and using in "moderation": my tolerance has dropped over the years. I'm constantly telling myself I'm too old for this, and weary. But somehow the balances are still weighted on heroin's side. I'm still telling myself it won't always be that way...

I'm scared I'll get more tired and older and pass the age Jerry Springer is now and still have achieved nothing worthwhile in life. Strange: I think back to when I was young and full of daydreams and plans (for better or worse I never distinguished the two). Never once in a million years did I look forward to a life of doing nothing.

Even though I always wanted to be rich and successful (was the only one in an entire careers class who ticked the top-end box when asked how well we wanted to do in life; the other boxes staggered down progressively past "comfortably off" and obscene mediocrity) I never ever fantasized about having riches I'd not won fair and square (unlike the dreadful youth of today). It wasn't so much status I was after as security ~ though I'd always wanted to achieve my "full potential". I daydreamed recurrently about "business ideas". It was the doing I dreamed of, and doing more and more and more before I died. Never lazing around ~ in luxury or in squalor. I always used to have a sense of time running too rapidly by and knowing I'd have to rush to get my ambitions completed while time was still on my side. It wasn't just drugs that knocked me off course. There were years of misery and exhaustion when I was variously diagnosed with CFS and depression.

I still have the special feeling today, but its muted by the haze I live in and I've lost confidence in getting the cooker cleaned and the shopping done before my head's done in ~ let alone achieving these ambitions to rock my people's world with stories bursting out inside me I'm still desperate to tell...

OK well that's about that for today. I "must rush to catch the post" as I'd say in a letter to my late Gran. Cheerio folks; Godwilling I'll be back for yous all tomorrow...

Robo-pixx: Bashful and Itchy look/-ed like these bullet-bodied juveniles; Spherical resembles this white-faced full-bodied "specimen" who possibly has packed pouches...

PS: top ~ that's what "him from Shameless" (Frank Gallagher) looks like (so did I):

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING IDLE by OASIS
This tune goes around and around in my head...



BETTER IN TIME ~ LEONA LEWIS ~ JASON NEVINS REMIX
I love the voice and her; but I wish she'd do a u-turn from the Aguilera/Carey route and do more stuff that shows off her talent better: