Let us never be that way again.

I am writing this at 07:30 hours on a Thursday morning from work. It is grey outside.

Trying to get to sleep last night resulted in my mapping in great detail what my ceiling looks like. Like a certain other act that will not be mentioned here I spent an hour preparing, getting keyed up for getting into bed and after all that, all that work, nothing happened. I spent six hours being increasingly frustrated with myself, angrily checking my clock, daring it to be later than I wanted it to be, and I managed to get to sleep about three hours ago.

I do not enjoy the company of my brain anymore. We have stopped talking and are avoiding one another in the house, it childishly huffing its way out of the kitchen when I walk in there etc. Grow up. It knows it’s in the wrong here but just won’t admit it, and it’s pathetic to watch. I’m going to suggest we start seeing other people.

A little while I got it into my head to watch all those films that people keep talking about, so I resolved to spend an evening drinking and have my world rocked and I finally got around to watching Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, which is the best film I have seen in a very long time; I gasped, I laughed and I had something in my eye in the- yes, that bit. After this, having fortified myself with classy cider that comes in glass bottles I watched the Expendables.

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen or imagined someone on the motorway in the fast lane, sailing happily by you with a smug grin on his face, watching him shift down, only for him to accidentally shift into second instead of fourth and watching the vehicle spin away from the road with an expensive tinkling sound, his limp body flying into the grass verge, head striking rocks and twigs, surely dead?

My brain. That was my brain.

The change in tempo was polar; things exploded. A gun fired bullets that exploded, that hit something else, which then exploded, and then got punched in the face. And then someone had a knife thrown at them, and then he fell back onto something and then exploded.

There was a word I saw, I think it was Kris Straub who said it: it was an extravaganzmurder.

I’m looking forward to seeing the sequel.

Anyway, my shift starts in ten minutes and I need eighteen hundred cups of coffee to quell the shakes, and to prevent me from sitting on the nose of a plane, covering the dock in petrol after strafing it with cannon fire, firing a pistol back at the petrol covered pier and blowing it to smithereens. That was the best bit.