THE OLD MAN AND THE SEMEN (with apologies to (Ernest Hemingway)

Autobiographical

We have many colourful and varied people in the wonderful place where I work, some of them if not all of them have I am sure a story or two to tell as to how they wound up in such a drab and uninspiring place. Some of the residents have beards, some do not. Amongst the bearded ones is an old man who has a collection of gentlemen’s interest magazines magazines strewn across his floor. He also has a wide selection of newspaper images which supplement his magazine collection, most of not all of these pictures are stained, the same system is employed in his toilet, again the images he employs have stains all over them. I like to think they are spilt tea, however any half baked fool can tell they are not. The scene is reminiscent of teenage boys bedroom, except these days, those images are more likely to be on a computer and not on the floor. It is my happy task to clean rooms like this and last week it was decided it was to cluttered and messy to move there and we had to speak to management regarding the situation at hand. The magazine owner was naturally upset to hear we wanted to tidy his room and much protest was made as to our throwing his stuff out which had ‘great sentimental value attached to it’ At times like this it is hard not to laugh, so I bit my lip a little instead. Hopefully his room will be more accessible next time but I am not placing any bets on that being the case.

I have not written for a while due to several things, the most recent of which has been a stinking cold, which is finally leaving me, the last traces of it are at least. I just have a troublesome nose to contend with instead. There have been other factors involved too, mostly lack of motivation or doing something else. It would be nice to write more, more often so don’t be surprised if this does not happen and likewise don’t be too surprised if it does. Like model making, school work, painting, reading, gardening and work itself I have to prioritise my work load and it does not follow in that order. Some times I am even compelled to turn my phone off so I do not have to answer it, some people I know can talk for bloody hours about rubbish and I find it boring. The same people also like to complain about things not going their way too. They ought to pee off and find a counsellor dealing in financial anxiety, again that person is not me. J of whom I have written plenty in the past is well and managing her stuff pretty well, she wants to move back to Ithaca NY in some ways I don’t blame her, her current abode sounds a bit tiresome and she yearns for a place she can call home.

What else? I am now the proud owner of a shop mannequin, I am not sure why I bought it but the idea seemed quite novel, it can be sold again quite easily ( I am sure) and plenty of fun can be had with it in the mean time. It would look quite menacing dressed in lingerie with a leather cap and a whip, right now it looks quite harmless in a polka dot blouse, a denim skirt and bobble hat the black tights ensure it does not cold and maintain its modesty. it has yet to be assigned a gender or indeed a name but I suspect something female, seeing it is configured that way with breasts, hips etc. It would be very odd to call it Harold or Arthur, though in this day and age…

I hope to publish something more in the next couple of days

A woman with long dark haired in black leather elbow length gloves and ditto fetish gear kneeling on a bed of straw. she has her hands on her hips in a suggestive and wilful pose
A woman with long dark haired in black leather elbow length gloves and ditto fetish gear kneeling on a bed of straw. she has her hands on her hips in a suggestive and wilful pose

AN UPDATE ON THE PREVIOUS ARTICLE.

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So despite the wound clearing up, the vet giving the all clear and all the rest of that jazz. Things opened up again and a great load of green gack oozed out of what was a nicely scabbed over and clearing up sore patch. It looked like a gigantic green slug, minus the horns, though I would not be surprised to see a pair of them in the future. Too say I am at my wits end would be an understatement. I would be pulling my hair out, if I thought it would do any good and I alcohol would be a proper waste of time… We have a vet appointment this afternoon and I am kind of taking a tight grip on reality right now. Is it time to let him go, or does he stay. If this injury was mine, size for size, I would be moaning like a bitch. The cat, Mr fox is more stoical than that, though he does growl a bit at the moment and looks rather sulky. I do have to remember the vet warned me that wounds of this nature, can be a sod to heal, I would be a stupid sod to argue otherwise.

So that’s that off of my chest, do I feel better for offloading like that? No not really, but it might help a little bit at some point. I admit i busted into tears a short while ago at the prospect of loosing the little man. But you know something, change is inevitable, irresistible and inevitable. There is no stopping it or controlling when that change will happen. so it is pointless resisting the inevitable awfulness of what must happen. It has to be embraced and acknowledged. I do not think I could do the job of a vet. I am not brave or kind enough for such stuff. I think it would kill me, or me myself. then what use would I be. Nothing.

In the meantime, I am waiting for the lawn to dry out as I want to mow it. Trimming the hedge would also be a welcome distraction. In the meantime i think I shall paint a Toadstool, or at least part of a toadstool. I dislike doing things with electricity in the wet and damp. Do I need to explain why? As for everything else, I am lucky to have J listening at the other end of the line and other good friends around me who will lend a supporting ear or whatever other part of their anatomy is available. I think shoulders are quite popular at this sort of time. A friend of mine once said in times of darkness think of light, think of love and of life. Right now that is actually easy, but not that easy. It fact it is turning out to be fucking hard. My head feels like it is full of I don’t know what. I can feel my temper flaring just that little bit more than it needs to. Could it be I am a little bit stressed right now?

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I wanted to write last night, but something got in the way. So tonight I write instead, though what I write about has nothing or everything to do with what I started writing, which can wait for a rainy day. That subject is too technical and drawn out and to be honest, I feel a little tired and so shall give it a miss. Though I may write some but not publish it, yet.

Today has been a day of smearing, scraping and more smearing, the back room is quickly becoming a bare walled room with an all pervading stench of paint stripper.

last night today, i thought about doing some painting, it is not the time yet or I am not ready. Either way I must be patient and wait for the right time, creativity comes in many forms. My hands are calloused I cannot complain, my finger joints are sore, I am happy.

The other thing I started upon was and is entitled The Ten Commandments, it was already in progress and needs to be completed though shall most likely be done in several pieces, over a period of time, how long, who knows as long as it takes. Life is not a race, neither is decorating a back room or dare I say it digging a hole for a pond or completing any task. Stop making yourselves sick, rushing around as if everything as to be done yesterday, relax, breathe and smile, enjoy the moment and smile.

The race has not been run yet and there are still a few miles to go.