Something, instead of Nothing........... :o)

Not much going on right now……. Hasn’t been for a while.

Just thought I’d say Something rather than Nothing, but I guess there’s not a lot of difference between the two which means I might as well not bother, but I am, so that’s Something I guess.

So here’s to Something.

Wrote to my buddy mad Eddie in the States today……… well, last night too actually. Today was in response to him answering right away. He’s been on a downer lately and the once long,-deep-and-regular emails have dropped off for a while now. Mainly my fault I guess; plodding and struggling through life’s thick mud as I’ve been doing for a while now kinda leads me to ‘not bothering’ with a load of things I really should be bothering with.

‘Not bothering’ is kinda misleading though……… it smacks of those things ‘not bothered’ with being unimportant to me. Couldn’t be further from the truth really. Depression kills your life. Kills everything within shouting distance of it too. Kills friendships. Kills passions. Kills your job. Even kills your doctor’s patience too, if you refuse the mind-and-dick-debilitating medication which fails to cheer-up seventy percent of those who swallow it.

Kills the fucking lot really.

Mine’s from my job, and it’s not bad enough to have me curled up in a ball, but it’s bad enough that I can’t be bothered, unless I have to on someone else’s behalf. Work mostly. Which keeps me topped up nicely, thanks.

It’s the bullshit that's increasing in a way that would’ve been unimaginable a few years ago. Actually, it’s still bleddy unimaginable. These son’bitch weenies, all sat in their cosy offices are pissing on us all down here. As if we didn’t have enough of it to clear up as it is. I am often overwhelmed with their ingenuity, and ability to treat the ridiculous as entirely reasonable and practicable.

Anyway……… enough. I’m on a day off, and if I don’t watch it I’ll spend it walking around here having a bleddy good row with the buggers.

So, there’s Something, instead of Nothing.

Now, I’m off to do Nothing.

Y’all have a good day doing Something.

Or Nothing.

Either way, don't feel bad doing it, ok? :o)

Kxxx :o)

Laugh-out-loud books........... and one in particular. :o)

Hi Y’all,
I’ve been reading a rare book, ….. One that really made me laugh right out loud.

A lot of books have reviews by people who describe how a book had them ‘laughing out aloud’, and quite often by People Of Note, sometimes on behalf of Publications Of Note,. Sometimes the book was so funny, evidently, that such an open display of humour was unavoidable in public.

Well, that’s as may be, and far from it for me to doubt the truth of the reviewer, but quite honestly I find few books really are that funny. Most are quite funny, but those that really make you do more than chortle, smile, or interrupt the natural breathing rhythm to shove out a reverse sniff from the nostrils are quite rare. Maybe it’s just me who finds that, but I suspect not.

The book which has had me laughing aloud, and to the point of moist eyes a few times, is Rich Hall’s ‘I Blame Society’



To some extent I think it was helped by my having his ‘voice’ in my head pretty much all the time I was reading it. Made all the easier because it’s written in a dialect which kinda makes it hard not to ‘hear’ him in your mind, and that dry way he has of telling a yarn, assuming you’ve seen his stand-up performances, and/or other appearances on TV. I’ve recently seen him on our British comedy quiz show, ‘QI’, hosted by the amazing Stephen Fry, so that may well have been the reason his voice was speaking to me.

It didn’t have me laughing all the time by any means, and certainly not aloud every time I did laugh, but I couldn’t go very far without something funny hitting home. The other day, (the pebble collecting day), I sat on the beach and absolutely howled with laughter a good few times. I rocked back and lay there laughing for a minute, dried my eyes and sat up to read the same bit again, only to burst out laughing and repeat the performance.

It was a pretty empty beach. Just as well. Undignified behaviour for an Old Greaser.

Now, before you get the impression that I’m claiming this to be a great work of literature, I’m not. Partly because it isn’t in ‘classic’ terms, but also because I wouldn’t exactly be qualified to make such a judgement. To be honest, I hold a personal view that a great work of literature could be anything that intensely amuses the reader, is especially fluid and easy to read, and fills your head with what was intended by the author. Still, that’s not the point………. I’m not qualified to judge, that being generally the preserve of the finely educated.

Anyway…….. to quote Amazon’s synopsis:-

‘Married six times, all to women named Brenda, Otis Lee Crenshaw's bourbon-fuelled odyssey takes him from the high mountains of East Tennessee to the bottom of the music charts. A man not above faking his own death to sell more records, this is his not quite true story of romance, recidivism, country music, and an unshakable belief in Marriage at First Sight.’

Ok, so that’s generally the gist of the book, but in amongst it all are some wisdoms, and here is where I wished I’d noted the page numbers where I read them, but I didn’t, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You will probably have to be the sort of person who ‘thinks’ a lot about life, has been hammered by it at times (and who hasn’t, bar the very fortunate?….. Or perhaps less fortunate, I guess.), and can think a bit sideways at times too.
There was one morsel that tickled me, and I had been dying to try it out on someone since I read it……….. I was at work yesterday, and got my chance. Someone (We’ll call her Cheryl, shall we?) was going on about something or another, bless her. Some detail of out working day that was to be set in concrete as it tends to be these days. There were a few staff around to be amused by my great wit, and so I took a risk……….

“So, I’ve moved all the furniture around and it should be better for you all now”

“Cheryl, do you hear that?”

“What, I don’t hear anything?”

“Exactly, Cheryl, because that’s the sound of nobody giving a shit”

Everybody laughed, mainly because I was laughing my head off, and I JUST got away with it. It was a real close thing, because ‘Cheryl’ is Quite an Important Person, and knew she shouldn’t really be seen to see the funny side of it. It was ok because she knew it wasn’t meant spitefully, and I was just getting a laugh out of it.

Getting away with it. My biggest kick since I was born. :o)

Not so great when I come a cropper though, but isn’t that the measure of how good something feels………….. how bad the downside is. How dark the flip-side of the coin.

Sorry, rambling away.

Maybe I’ve read this at just the right time, in just the right mood, and so it floated my boat, I dunno. I read another of his books, called ‘Things Snowball’ a while ago, and can’t remember clearly, but don’t think it had me laughing as much as this one did. I must have a look for it, and read it again. Different things ‘fit’ us at different stages of our lives.

I’ve actually gone and rummaged around for ‘Things Snowball’, found it after ages wandering around my books, muttering, “I bleddy KNOW it’s here somewhere”, but not being able to see it anywhere. You know when you can ‘see’ where it is in your mind’s eye, but when you look there, it’s ‘gone’.

I suddenly found inspiration, and went delving into The Big Box, so called because it’s a real big box, yanking all the books out, finding it wasn’t there, and then and not being able to pack the same number of books back in again. There’s a lesson to be learnt there, and one I’ve learnt and seemingly repeatedly forgotten; never be too efficient in your box-packing/storing/tidying, because if you don’t leave some slack, you’ll never do such a good job when you go and take something out, and so The Untidiness will start all over again.

Always leave some slack in your efficiency!

In the end, after looking absolutely EVERYWHERE, I found it two books down from the top of the stack on the floor by the bedside cabinet. I KNEW I’d see the bleddy thing recently!

You know what it’s like when you find a book, especially one you’ve driven yourself to the edge of what sanity you have left, and believe me I can scarce afford to go anywhere near that precipice; you just have to start skimming though, and reading at least bits of it, don’t you? I ended up reading a few chapters ……… and, sure enough, ………… nope, nothing like as funny.

Funny, but not laugh-out-loud funny, as the reviewer on the back cover from The Scotsman claimed. Still we all find different humour funny, and so maybe these reviews, including my opinion here, aren’t worth reading. You just have to suck it and see. (Stop it!)

So, as per the usual, I guess I’m wasting everybody’s time here today.

Sorry (sigh) :oI

Ok, that’s enough…….. it was just going to be a few lines.

Y'all know how it is.........
K.x :o)

Finally....... an entry, and about the NaNoWriMo

Hi y’all….. not that anyone’s reading this now, I guess, especially since I seem to have pretty much abandoned any hint of regular entries here lately. No excuse, ……..just the usual lethargic apathy, and fuck-it-I’ll-do-it-tomorrow lifestyle I’ve turned into something of an art-form. :o)

I can’t even blame the long sunny summer we haven’t had again this year. Nope, no excuse, …………especially since I often describe myself as a Wannabe Writer.

Which brings me to the latest obsession that has consumed me for pretty much all of August, and has passed the time whilst looking at the rain from the Sun Room here at Fortress Wheelrest.

I’ve been spending an absolute FORTUNE at the Alter of Amazon, buying pretty well all the well-recommended books on writing, both on the technical aspects and the inspirational and emotional side of the craft. The stuff that makes you want to sit like a saddo and type away for hours, sometimes about bugger-all. At least as far as those who don’t write, or maybe even read, would see someone like me as I guess.

What has sparked this off then?

Well, it’s a thing called The NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), or Nanowrimo thing

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

You basically start on the first of November, and by the 30th will have sent off at least the minimum 50,000 word draft of a novel, script, or whatever. everyone who manages to get at least those 50,000 words out is a winner.......... there are no prizes, no awards, though, just the satisfaction of achieving those 50,000 words in the month of November, and so being eligible to wear the t-shirts, badges etc, if you wanted to buy and wear them that is. I think I might lash out a few quid for one. :o)

The website is just kept ticking over for most of the year, but freshens up and really kicks in, in October in time to encourage everyone to gear up for the 50,000 word-writing marathon for the month of November.

Just imagine if you could do that, eh? Write 50,000 words in a month! It doesn't matter what you write about, or how good it is; the important thing is to write every day for that month, and get those 50,000 words out. At least fifty thousand of the little blighters. One word at a time. Writing something like 1,667 words a day, every day, for a month.

I'm going to aim for at least 2,000 words a day. Absolute minimum. That'll be 60,000 words, and, hell, maybe even more. the big trouble I can see, is no ideas on what to write whatsoever, and if there's no ideas, maybe I won't be able to 'flow' well enough to get those words out every day. Hmmmnnnn I guess I'll have to rely on my ability to ramble about bugger-all, but that will mean 50,000 words about nothing.

Still, all the advice I read from authors has one common thread, and that is to write, even if you don't know what to write. just get the words out, and more often than not, something appears out of all those words and thoughts solidify into some idea, or direction, and the writing takes off on it's own. I know it happens, because I find it happening all the time when I email, write on this blog, or whatever i find myself writing about.

So, I'm optimistic in that I'll succeed in this. it will be good to succeed in something these days.

Writing is very therapeutic in any case, if you need any therapy that is, and even if you don't think you do, it still will have a good effect of one sort or another. Why don't you have a go at it too? It sure would at least give you some focus in that dead November time, when winter weather is starting to really settle in, and Christmas looms just too far ahead to be within grasp.......... for those lucky sods in good enough shape to want to grasp it, that is.

Anyway, read through the blogs............. some are very good, and illustrate how life changing doing something like this can be. It's on the drop-down list under the 'fun Stuff' tag, ...............NaNoWriMo Blog................ but here's the direct link to the blog page anyway........ http://blog.nanowrimo.org/

On the right side, are various peoples blog entries, and some are quite inspiring to read if you take the time to scroll through to those which catch your interest.

I'm telling everyone who may be the slightest bit interested, and a good few who couldn't give a shit, all about my commitment to this, and that's to kinda make it all the harder for me to abandon it as soon as it gets to be a struggle. I have to say, it's pretty demoralising to find I don't have the slightest idea of what I'm going to write about, so any suggestions will be welcomed.

OK, that’s me for today. I guess if I aim for shorter blogs, I might write in here more often. mind you, November's gonna be a real lean month for this blog, and for emailing too. I guess I'll leave the web-dating alone too, which will give my ego and self-esteem the world of good for a start.

Women, I mean, who needs them anyway? (Sigh)

OK, that's definitely it.

Y’all keep happy. :o)

I need the encouragement, y'see.
K.x :o)

Serving Time At The Kickstart.........

Pete called in again at mid-day, and then went off to Andy’s to fiddle with the GS650 Suzuki he bought the other day.

(One like this GS650, but with a bit more of a 'patina' about it.) :o)


He’s been polishing and said it was looking a lot better than when I saw it the other day, so I dragged the Harley out to at least let her suck some air through her lungs, and went over for a gander.

Yup, sure enough, it looked a lot better, and whilst we were all stood about admiring it, Andy invited Pete to demonstrate his fledgling kick-starting skills on the XS650 Yammy he was doing up.

Peter hasn't yet Done His time At The Kickstart, but is very keen to impress. I have to say, though, that in my extensive experience at trying to impress, and boy, have I ever tried, it's invariably something to regret at leisure.

(Andy and the XS650 Yammy)

Pete, and with some considerable optimism I have to say, swung a shapely leg over the snoozing Yam, gently leaning on her stand looking so quiet and harmless.

They often do that y’know,………. look quiet and harmless. :o)

It wasn’t the wisest thing he’s done that day, if indeed he’d done anything wise that day, which was doubtful. He'd visited me that morning for a start.

He Assumed The Position, with much settling the foot in the optimum location on the long kickstarter lever, and prepared himself for the first stroke. There's generally only the one location, but it's a biker tradition to seem to be choosing from several. It gives you time to gather courage, and/or consider if there isn't something else you'd rather be doing.

A manly swing was taken.

Nothing.

No life evident in sound or deed.

Another, even manlier swing, again to no avail.

Ok……… more ‘application’ needed, and this is where it started to all fall apart. He launched himself into the air, and descended on the kickstarter once again, with a mighty grunt that would've made any woman want to drag him off into the bushes. Mid-way down the stroke, the Peter Foot slipped off the kick-starter, and it flew back up along the Peter Shin. It was horrible to witness, it really was.

If you’ve spent your yoof swinging over a variety of spiteful big British motorcycle engines, and in particular Big Singles, by means and method of applying leg power to a kick-start lever, you can feel the pain quite acutely in your mind just by watching the affair. If, however, you've led a more sheltered and less colourful life, you will sadly be unable to share the experience as acutely, but believe me, it’s excruciatingly painful in the extreme.

Peter was obviously in considerable pain, but, to his credit was manfully attempting to line himself up for another go at it. I was impressed. A lesser man would've quit there and then.

Andy and I naturally encouraged Pete to overcome The Hurting with hearty laughter and several inferences that one simply wasn’t manly enough. I'm sure it helped him a lot, because he soon took another hearty swing at it.

And again.

And again.

Just as well he’s a Fit Boy.

Hope was taking the last train outta town, though.

You could tell he was gpong for The Big One, by the way he gathered himself, and then swung on it from great height, and in the most determined manner so far.

It’s unclear as to exactly what happened. Peter later offered that the kick-start suddenly had no resistance, and slammed to the bottom of it’s stroke, unexpectedly snapping his leg straight.

The vicious bitch must’ve half-heartedly fired. :o)

That his foot certainly slipped of at the bottom of the stroke, and his shin was in the way once more as it flew upwards again, was for sure-certain.

I know, because I saw it.

I swear I felt the pain before he did. It was pain on top of pain. Let me explain to the uninitiated amongst you.

The whole manner of kickstarting a motorcycle is inherently designed to ensure each fresh injury is directly inflicted on the exact spot of the one before, and more often than not inflicted immediately beforehand. There is also a characteristic of the activity which ensures that multiple contusions will pile up in a crescendo of agony, because of the rule of thumb that if it doesn't start first time it's not going to start before the tenth attempt either. There's something about trying to start a reluctant motorcycle which encourages the hope that the Next Time will have it running. It all adds up to a permanent limp. A traditional test of manhood sadly missing these days to filter and preserve the purity of the breed.

You could always tell a Goldie (BSA 500cc Gold star) owner, by the way he walked.

I digress............

Pete hobbled off the bike, and was quite beside himself………. Reduced to assuming a foetal crouch moaning away to himself. (I'm convinced I heard him mentioning his Mummy, but can't be sure-certain, so I won't mention it.)

(Pete, Trying to stand, .......bravely laughing. Mummy would have been proud of her boy!) :o)

I found myself clutching at My Parts in sympathy, but luckily I don't think anyone noticed. Why specifically at My Parts, I’m not altogether sure, but I guess it’s an instinctive Man Thing.

It was very funny, though, and how we laughed as we felt his pain. We boys are sympathetic like that y’know. :o)

Andy strode forward, confident at a superior technique, born of Many Years At The Kickstart, and swung masterfully aboard, as Pete-The-Defeated hobbled away to lick his wounds.

Andy, once astride, prepared himself with much gusto and a deep drawing on the smouldering fag adhering to his bottom lip. As a confidently determined a man as I have ever seen. I was prepared to be impressed by a polished technique.



(XS650 Yam. Andy, preparing with gusto for the First Thrust. Pete in pain, and trying not to be a wimp.) :o)))))


It was going to start impressive first kick.

He kicked.

And kicked.

And kicked, and kicked and kicked and bleddy kicked.

The breathing was a tad laboured.

Oh dear.

Things were looking serious.

Not in the least, Andy, as the smile became fixed and relatively absent of his easy humour. Suffice to say, he was exhausted after some pretty enthusiastic, and, it must be said, determinedly expert kicking.


(Andy considering the honorable options. Pete still in pain, but still unable to look us in the eye.)

Nothing.

Bugger –all.

Less than Bugger-All in fact, which is commonly regarded as Not A Lot.

Ok, then………. Plugs Out, in the time honoured tradition of having a face-saving rest whilst carrying out seemingly worthwhile remedial activity. One of those Man things, we all know about, but never collectively acknowledge. Plugs Out is one of the best, and for that reason, the most common.

We all agreed with a three-way conversation on the subject.

“Pete, whip the plugs out, while I take a leak” (Said breathlessly, .........and not in a romantic way either)

“The plugs?”

“Yeah, (gasp, sucks on fag, gasps again) could be the plugs. Give ‘em a (gasp, suck) quick clean.”

“Yeah, Pete, could be the plugs.” (Sips tea)

“I’ll be back in a minute.” (Gasps, draws on fag, gasps again)

Yeah, ok, could be the plugs. ………I’ll take ‘em out and clean em up then.” (Pete limps over with spanner in hand, glad of the distraction. Clutches at leg)

“I’ve had duff plugs.” (Sips tea)

“Yeah, so’ve I.” (Plug socket clanking on cylinder head)

“Several times. Had some new ones that were buggered, I did. Took three days stripping everything else to find that out, it did.” (Slurps big gulp of tea, as if at the memory)

“Yeah, I've had new ones that were buggered too. Plugs is dodgy things y’know” (wipes already clean plugs with rag to make cleaner. Clutches at leg)

“Yeah, they are. Wouldn't think new ones would be buggered, would you? Fuckin’ things.” (sighs, sips tea)

“Yeah.” (Puts extra-clean plugs back in. Winces and clutches at leg. Hobbles to one side.)

Plugs are back in again. Leads are on. All’s ready for action.

Hope hangs in the air like a damp sponge on a string

Andy reappears, adjusting Parts

Swings a mighty leg over the silently waiting Yam. Adjusts parts again. (Note:-Important, this, to hitch one's Parts well up out of the way in case one's foot slips off mid-way down, causing one's weight to be cushioned on One's Parts as one crashes down on the seat). Determinedly Assumes The Position, and, lithely for one so large, leaps onto the Yammy kick-start again.

He’s a Big Boy, and the Yam could tell it was futile to resist a determined man of such a stature.

It coughs.

“Nearly!”

Then it fired.

Just the once.

“Nearly. Must’ve bin the plugs.”

“Yeah, must’ve bin the plugs.”

“Yeah, c’mon Andy,…….. this time!”

Great joy and hope abounded in we three boys, and Andy applied his person upon the starting device once again.

BRRRAMMMM………It started at last, and a wonderful clamour it was, to be sure. Not as good as it could be, but then again one carb body is cracked around the pilot jet, so allowances were made.

Pete was still suffering, but bravely laughing the laughter of one who is pretending all is well, but knows all present know it isn’t, but are laughing, glad it isn’t them who are suffering.

If you get what I mean. :o)

You had to be there really.

And you had to have kicked many a bike over yourself. It’s an Old Greaser Thing. A common scenario we all knew and loved, back when you kicked these things over every sodding day.

But, like I said, …………you had to have been there. :o)

Nite nite,
K. :o)

P.S.
Why didn't I volunteer my expert services?

Well, The bloody Enfield takes it's toll as it is, I'm a damn sight older, got dodgy everything but particularly the knees, and besides which, someone had to remain standing, and with enough breath to be able to speak, to ring the ambulance, didn't they? :o)
K.:o)