Well this one at least eh god-suckers?
It’s been quite good, did a few thousand words on the new/old novel which I hope is going to be an Iain Banks quality sci-fi love/saving the world-type adventure thing. It’s evolving as I write so that’s a good thing.
I don’t plan much, just a basic outline which I then usually either forget or go on to ignore most of as the story writes itself after a certain point. That’s what it’s all about isn’t it? Free thought, free reign.
I can write to a brief but why would you limit yourself?
Anyway I had a great nana nap on the stairs after the first thousand words. I love that when you can feel the wave coming closer, each sentence becoming more and more surreal as the light slips away until there is no option but to lay down and let it slide.
Watched a film, Fast Girls, about an English relay team winning gold but I think it was probably more about the pertness of coloured girls buttocks for me. Great story but nothing compared to the firmness of the girls bottoms…sorry. Is that sexist? I don’t even know if heterosexuals are allowed to admit to finding the opposite sex attractive any more. It’s bound to contravene some health and safety rule or the Geneva convention on the human rights of buttocks to go uncommented upon. Not to worry, one day they’ll all be running in burkhas, you’ll be happy then won’t you, fuckwits.
So, I watched the inbetweeners movie yet again and yet again it made me laugh in all the right places and yet I feel as if maybe I should have matured enough to not find such things amusing but, no, I’m still a childish, possibly sexist, homophobic dick who laughs at poo jokes, and?
Finally I managed a little bit of editing, proofing, and typing before moving onto my autobiography that gets very little attention usually although it’s up to 40,000 odd words now. It’s a comedy of errors.
People think you can just become this much of a loser but it’s taken me a lifetime of underachievement to reach this level of stupidity.
I started young so failure is now second nature to the point that I don’t really believe in success within the same parameters that most people do. Basically I’m willing to settle for far less if it means I never have to do a full time run of the mill job ever again. In fact I’m willing to never achieve anything so long as I don’t have to work at the coal face again. Not that I’ve ever faced a coalface but driving the taxi is as close as I ever want to get to rolling that rock up the mountain on a daily basis.
Fifteen years down the pan, went in young-ish, came out manic, old, wrinkled, and ruined. Can’t get that time back, the only benefit is I spent the last year writing and now that’s me, that’s all I want to do.
That’s all I’m going to do.
I enjoyed that little blast of inspiration tonight. It’s weeks since I last put anything down. We’re at 1988 but there will be a steady progression through the dormant years and the lost years of the taxi have no merit.
Got in a taxi November 1994, went to Spain in March, got back in October of same year, got out again May 2010; the end.
Still recovering some sense of myself but so much was lost, so much destroyed, so much self-belief just wrung out of me over the time. The last vestiges of my belief in women and relationships, the remnants of my sanity, fuck, what a shitty job. Still, at least, despite my antipathy toward the trade I will never, ever, have to face that again.
Anyway it’s irrelevant as I can’t ever see me releasing an autobiography, who would read it? The same people who don’t buy my books? The same people who wouldn’t help me with my charity? The same family and ‘friends’ who would rather bitch about each other’s football teams or post cleverer peoples naff philosophical quotes on Facebook as though reading it endows them with the wit and intellect of the originator, tragic!
No, this one is for my own amusement, much like my last few novels although Hache (proofreader) has convinced me that maybe I should release my last book, His Own Downfall…maybe, maybe not.
I’m still not convinced there’s a market for my writing so simply putting them on Amazon is roughly the equivalent of standing on a clifftop in a strong breeze and pissing into the updraft so you regain your effluent all over your face and hair rather than keeping it safe and tidy within your bladder. There’s only so many times you can do that before you learn to face the other way, or hold it in until a convenience is available.
Anyway, all in all it’s been a pleasant day despite the tone of this.
Look out for my books, they’re utter shit.
https://amazon.com/author/brocsilva. Or…… google me