Good intentions

I was going to write a few chapters, do a bit of maths homework, maybe proofread a chapter or two of my long lost 1st novel The Lily Pond but did I?
I did not.
Instead I stared at the TV, ate too much, prevaricated, stared into space and drank another coffee then eventually managed to force myself out the door to scrub officiously at the aluminium on my motorbike that looks as if it’s never really been cleaned properly in years. I got a bit carried away but she looks a lot better now and besides when I came in covered in grime I had that obligatory man-smear of grease on my forehead. Satisfying; it made me feel butch and manly for the first time in ages.
Writing is great but typing always gives me a slight ooh, like I should cross my legs and hang my wrist even more limply than I already do when lost in the moment. It’s a crossover from playing guitar I think. That same aversion to anything that might trap or injure the fingers results in a decidedly limp, effeminate way of holding the hands. When I type my little fingers stick out as I only use middle fingers most of the time but why I can’t keep the rest of my fingers in check I don’t know, bizarre isn’t it? I’ve questioned myself a million times and I can confirm I have no interest in the penis at all but to watch me type, clean or operate any form of machinery you’d imagine I’m a sausage-mincer straight away.
Mind you I am a bit fey in my writing, love, emotions, all that.
I put it down to that evil whore taking my Naiomi away.
I’m fantasising about an ideal world, the belief that looks can make a difference to the fact that few, if any, relationships can stand the test of time whether there are kids involved or not.
(I mean, look at Chwis and Gwinnie!how is this possible? You might get the impression that she would enjoy a good seeing to but in reality she’s probably an I’d-prefer-a-nice-cup-of-cocoa-and-a-carrot-dipped-in-garlic-mayo’ type.)
If the veggie-lickers can’t make it what chance for the rest of us?
Naive? Probably but I like to think, actually I know, there IS such a thing as love at first sight and if both parties actually out some fucking effort in instead of allowing youth and looks to determine their poor choices there is every chance of remaining part of a family group so long as the evil female can keep her vagina under her skirt! (Yes I am bitter)

Anyway, it’s been fantastic lounging about and doing no worky work at all today.
I might write something tomorrow, might not, might just eat ice-cream and chocolate all day, and?
I always find I get a burst of productivity out of taking some time away from the pen anyway. It’s fun, not meant to be a jobby-job, they’re for adults.


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