Chris and Tom in better times 

May 31 (bank holiday monday): Blur wrote a song about these days. I awaken thinking I have been asleep forever. I think it is probably 11am when really it is just 8am. Bonus! Today's intention is for it to again be nothing but study and revising and things early on look good. However Sara gets me on MSN Messenger at her first available point and she bangs on at me about her latest dilemna. We message until her lunch (9am) and then finally I get on with revision. It goes ok but still I am fucking totally fucking with tax. I break at 11am to watch the repeat (yet again) of the episode of Friends with Bruce Willis in it. I also receive emails from Chris, seems they've had a barney up in Nottingham. And add to this Dad hits me on Messenger also, today is kinda interrupted. And then Beyonce goes and has a concert on T4. I make attempts at resuming revision but I get hold of Sara again on MSN for some tips on what to put in an email to Phoebe that I've decided to send as I'm bored. Sara's suggestions are shit and my words don't really come however I piece together some tat and send it. And it gets bounced back. Crap, it looks like she's given me a bum email address (which, to save face/humiliation is a secret between you and I reader). Wha' happened? Anyways, eventually I slope into some kind of additional study but then I just give up for the day, bummed about the bouncing email. I put on Everything Sucks by the Descendents, I have forgotten how AWESOME this record is. I plunder through early evening, making a minging stir fry. Today is the official restart of Atkins and food is once more going through me like shit through a Graham. I get bored and text Sarah asking if she likes the Walkers Crisps adverts because she fancies (used to) Gary Lineker. She gets back to me suggesting a drink thursday night. Good call! I slap on Fugazi on Media Player and run a bath (which I eventually get in an hour later). I'm loving Big Brother 5 so far. Where on earth did they find another Jason with the exact same physique as me. Beefcake!

np: Sonic Youth - (She's In A) Bad Mood

The view at night from my apartment that is keeping me sane 

I actually enjoy riding the tube 

Stevo clubbing looking like he is melting 

A miracle, my blog is up to date. I'm having a bad day, bad times bad vibes in store ahead of me. What's made me smile now makes me frown. I can't find humour in anything, just immature pranks and smart arse remarks. Still, I want today over and tomorrow here. Why? Do I have plan to turn it round? No, I just need an audience.

May 30 (Sunday): today is set aside for studying and that's what I do. Today is a real yawner and I may as well spend a day in bed. I do the newspaper run via Asda and sneak into work to use their computers and see what state the office awaits me tuesday (I also debate whether to jizz more money on the Curb Your Enthusiasm DVD). Studying happens and no surprises I am still struggling beyond belief with tax. I do a fair bit, cover a lot of ground but my heart really isn't in it and I can't see me getting tax in mind. Still, things look fairly rosey and I am not panicking or worrying, which seems a false sense of security/confidence. Maybe its the St John's Wort. I'm also popping pep pills (caffeine in tab). I walk around confident but not necessarily complete. I jack in early and hit the tube. I watch the Jerky Boys movie and fall asleep, surely it wasn't that bad before (even with Ozzy and Helmet cameos). I scrap around for a DVD before bed and plump with Anything Else, Woody Allen's last film. I need direction

May 29 (saturday): shitola. Azmei kindly chooses to ignore my text asking what's happening with Margaret's barbecue today as I know nothing: where it is, who is going, when it starts. She really is a cunt sometimes. I can't hang about though, stuff to do and this week I finally get my haircut. I go in maintaining my high morale despite being messed about by Azmei. It takes its time but eventually I get my do done with Colin saying to me as I leave "bet you're glad to get out of here". Not at all but unfortunately some old duffer brought his wife into the barbers with him and immediately everyone shuts up from saying anything interesting or funny or anything. Instead we get them talking about professional cockney Joe Brown (anyone under 25 ever heard of him?). I do the paper run and text Azmei asking if she is all right, seems I've pissed her off. Wow, I nearly faint when she actually/eventually texts back to this one. She tells me she's looking forward to the BBQ and asks me if I'm going.... I swear. I enquire about it and she's as a vague and useless as ever. Eventually she goes "please come" but by now its just about to begin and I'm stuck in Clacton. I am so goddamn pissed off and I allow it to ruin my day. I watch the play offs final and am shocked when Crystal Palace actually beat West Ham. Good, hope the Premiership bankrupts them. Around 8pm Azmei texts me asking if I've had a good day and that I "missed a good BBQ and I should have come". Talk about red rag, why on earth would she say that to me other than to piss me off? Her fucking fault I didn't go. So there I am texting while driving as we snap back at eachother. I tell her she really let me down and she never responds to this. Ironically her sister begins texting me and she says "it sounded drab by what Azmei". Headfucks everyone.

May 28 (Friday): Last day at college which means last day in London and I am gutted as this means back to the same old same old as of next week. I love London, it excites me beyond belief, I'm just cheating myself by not looking into getting a job here. And of course its the last day of class with Phoebe, of well all good things come to an end (and tonight is the last episode of Friends). I get on the train swift as usual and today is the best of the bunch, in the early hours it is already glowing summer like sun. And this is coupled with Moyles on-form on the radio to the point his track of the day is Slide Away by Oasis which fits perfectly on this day in this best of all worlds. As I enter the lift at Shepherd's Bush BPP and look at my reflection in the mirror I am actually smiling, one that is not forced nor phony, this is the real deal. Today I am on form, in a too laidback way (as usual). First thing I text Azmei asking her to please remember to bank my cheque. Fuck all response, oh well. After a fairly succesful morning study wise me and the Phoebe go get lunch from McDonalds. I get dust in my throat and cough all the way, exactly like something out of a Woody Allen, I am a disgrace. Whatever. I also foist my email address and phone number on her and she reciprocates but it'll probably turn out to be fake, I am boxing way above my weight with this one. She sits anxious all day making paper stars and she gives them to me as lucky stars to get me through the exams (five in all). Nice touch, she sits humming most of the afternoon.

We end slightly early and I waste no time in saying bye to Phoebe and I make a b-line for Oxford Street. Today everything looks good. The sun is out, I look good for passing my exam and I got a number (hey, it might even be real!). At Tottenham Court Road I head straight for Forbidden Planet on New Oxford Street. Wha' happened? Where'd it go? Fuck it, undaunted I hurdle past bums and tourists and go to Sportspages. Like a div I am on the look out for US sports trading cards. Why? I don't know. I then accidently find Fopp Records. I step inside and its magic. Kev used to work here and I never visited him: what an idiot I was. Sonic Youth back catalogue for a fiver. Have some of that. And the music was absorbing, so 2004, so hip, so what I want as my personal soundtrack. Upstairs in the shop the view towards Covent Garden stuns, this truly is the greatest place on Earth (Central London I mean). At the desk I ask what the music is and it turns out to be Sixtoo on Ninja Tune (makes sense). I buy it immediately. Funny thing though, at home in da crib, it doesn't sound anywhere near as good, it just sounds like Tortoise to me. I find Forbidden Planet and it has moved and it has gone sour. I wander/stagger around Covent Garden, around the beautiful people. For once I am calm enough to window shop and enjoy all the art on offer, wishing I only had had time to cultivate an art of me own (see Nothing Lasts Forever for the movie version of my struggle). On the way back, past the Astoria, I head to the Virgin and waste more money on sale DVDs I probably won't watch for months. On their big screen they show Lord Of The Rings 3 and it is booming, just like in a cinema. For some reason I felt like sharing my experience with somebody. I text Azmei and obviously she doesn't answer (texting seems passe in some quarters). I ride the late train home and again I recognise commuters and the sit opposite to the funniest looking woman in history, a history with a small screwed up face and a permanent look of disdain and facial language screaming "I'm going to get you". She should be the villan in her own cartoon series.

By the time I get home I am elated and the happiest with my state of affairs I have been for a long time (lots of factors why). I decide I want chips, as bad as they are for me. Driving there I find I am following Lindsey in my car. Neither of us see eachother (yeah right, although on her part this is probably true). I get chips and fly home for the last Friends and the first Big Brother of the year. I really wish I had more. Last Friends is so so, cheesy ending not done as well as landmark episodes. Big Brother 5 though is hyped to the max but then out come some really interesting (ie fucking nasty it seems) individuals. The pond life will save it. Still, none will be as good as if I had got on there two years ago. Oh well, I pass out.

May 27 (thursday): another fine day in the neighbourhood. Its a bit cold out first thing but not to worry. I arrive at Shepherd's Bush and I see Phoebe and I am blown away, she looks amazing. She asks me how football went and I am proud to announce we won, sounding surpised even myself. I ask her how kick boxing went and it sounded kick ass. Its another great day, the course appears to be going well and it is with great company, I am really feeling confident about things and this exam appears more than passable. The day flies by, with the help of talking to Phoebe and I hop the train home easy, well within time. Its getting a bit worrying now how I really AM recognising faces and become another face in the commuter meatwagon. And even freakier, this evening I sit next to the exact same person as yesterday on the train home. Just as we pull off out of Liverpool Street the office phones and it is Stevo. Instead of anything of importance, he is getting me to say over the phone, over speakerphone who great his goals last night were, mainly for Sunny's benefit.

It get into Colchester in good time and the day has done a complete turnaround, the evening is magnificent, like the height of summer without the horror climates. In the evening I go to the session and point out how ridiculous my causes for concern of last week were, I am ashamed and embarassed. Otherwise though it paints a pretty picture with regards to events, though I don't think it myself.

May 26 (wednesday): and I journey up to London a complete bag of nerves. A new course, a new set of concerns. And of course I am anxious about seeing Phoebe again (will I luck out and have someone to speak to again this week?). I arrive and the notice board indicates a much larger class pupil wise in a much smaller class space wise. I wonder how my new chav polo shirt looks? Does it make me look fat? Nope, my beer belly does. I stagger into the classroom and there she is, I smile and walk over. She removes her bag from the seat next to her, an open invitation and it could be read into that she was saving it for me (if I am to be the owner of a dellusional huge ego). We talk and it rules and basically we're carrying on from last week. I am so relieved and elated, signs indicate that this is going to be a good course. We talk loads and I can't remember any of it, only that it is all good including her telling me she is sorry that Millwall lost the FA Cup Final ("those thugs, who cares?"). She looks stunning and I don't tell her (duh!!!!!!!). And bonus, its the audit course and I actually know the answers to the questions and, on the whole, I'm good. Our tutor is scary looking because she looks exactly like B's aunt Nina. And sitting to my left is a crap David Blaine (lookalike) cramping my style. The day ends on high notes, life is good. EXCEPT.....

....teachers goes on and on and on at the end of the day which means I have to run for the train in order to get back to Colchester in time for football. I run for the train? That's as rare as Haleys Comet. Still, I do it/make it and football rules. The atmosphere is good this week and so are we. Dick is playing instead of Seymour and the general vibe is good spirit. Personally I improve greatly on last week (although I still let in some soft goals) and at half time 5-5 and in the second half we eventually edge it 14-10. I was hoping to get my conceded number under ten this week and when Birkett Long slot one in right at the end I am utterly gutted. During the game I mentally play the destiny, "if we can win this, then I can.....", so when we do win the blood rushes/flows and my feeling is that this should be the beginning to a new bout of momentum. Let 'em come, let 'em come!

In the evening dad MSNs me to tell me that he went to Colin's today to get his haircut. This is followed by Chris AND Tom on Messenger and we do a three way, which is as gay as it sounds. Still don't get any study done though.

May 25 (tuesday): more work, more good vibes. Azmei picks me up in the morning and she's so so. Turns out that she is going to have to pay her ex £3000 to get him off her back, which compared to a major proportion/share of a £100,000 house isn't so bad. Still, she's pissed off by it, pissed off by everything. Unfortunately Lindsey cuts in as we walk to work and we stop talking, so I switch to listening to Moyles and go into a world of my own. Azmei does come back to me as we near the office and I begin telling her how I am attempting to learn Chinese in an attempt to impress the girl on the course, it cracks us up that I seem to be putting more effort into learning that than I am my studies. Whoops. We enjoy another relaxed day in the office, verging on fucking about but we're getting work done too so that makes it all right. Its a really good atmosphere in Chernobyl these days, Steve, Sandip and I make a really good team although it does hinder our output sometimes. At lunchtime Stevo wants me to go with him to the Chinese buffet but I feel I should take on of my final opportunities to go round town at lunch with Azmei. Stevo still gets me Chinese buffet and brings it back to the office and it makes me feel like a shithead. Going round town with Azmei is laboured, we really have drifted this year. I haven't seen her for a week and I am telling about my adventures and it really seems to be falling on deaf ears, which I have to admit makes me sad. We wind up just walking around not really saying much. I escape and quickly run to some clothes shops to buy something new in order to look nice at Shepherds Bush this week. I buy a Pierre Cardin polo shirt because I think it looks like something The Streets would wear (chav), all in an attempt to impress. I get in with all intentions to study audit for tomorrow but instead I pass out again.

May 24 (monday): very nervous today, I expect a shellacking at work over the Crystal Financal job. I have to walk into work as Azmei is in court in her BIG financial court case. As I walk into work with butterflies I text her "good luck" to which she replies "thank". Be sure not to put too much effort into that now. I step into work with apprehension but the atmosphere isn't bad. Andy comes over to our office and is chipper and there is no indication of any issues with Crystal Financial and it doesn't even get mentioned. I go over the road to test the waters and Seymour says "morning" and hands me my expenses cheque in a good mood. I'm feel uneasy. And Drew doesn't even mention the job, the big shocker. The sphincter loosens and it turns out to be a good day, we fuck about on form. At lunch me and Stevo go to O'Neills but its a bit pony. By the evening I am shattered and pretty much pass out, failing to get any study done (nothing new there then).

May 23 (sunday): another day dedicated to revision. I try, I really try. Tax all the way. Early on Chris texts inviting me to eat. There are two options/occasions: one with his Girl Nation and another with his family and I appear to be steered towards the latter, although I am officially invited to both. However, with regards to his Girl Nation, I am as popular as a dose of the clap and add to that, it is at Clowns and I vow to never to eat there, anywhere that has Steve Nice involved in the preparation is a health risk.

With reservation I opt for the family do at Montes and I feel a bit awkward, I'm not a family member. Add to this Chris' uncles' girlfriend actually thinks I am Chris at first. It actually turns out tonnes of fun in the end, once the realisation that the starter wasn't the main course. Chris' family is really cool, its funny seeing his dad sit next to who is obviously is his brother because it looks like a version of Chris' dad but with hair. Good food too, tomorrow I can tell everyone at work (on my last day there) that I ate Nepalese food.

After we head to the Hogshead and it is an awesome summer evening. Nina, Skittles and others are there and I'm fairly on form (happy) and its good times. Come closing time though the race is on to get home: Police Academy is on 4. That stuff is funnier than ever

May 22 (saturday): recap of Cup Final day. Wake up early buzzing, take in the news and it is all Millwall Millwall. Very cool. I have stuff to do today/this morning and it's a minor pain when Sara is on MSN from Australia for the first time in about three weeks. After gathering up more stuff from my flat to sell on Ebay I make moves with the intention of getting the hair done before the game. I am in my Millwall shirt but I wear something over the top of it, I'm not that proud. Around 10pm Stevo texts me. Later I see I have a missed call and its Stevo again, from the office. What on earth is he doing there on a saturday morning? Still my good remains entact and whenever I feel good I don't really worry about finances which sees my unwisely buying the Streets and Morrissey CDs on the card. I rush home like a nutter in time to catch the last cut at Colin's (National Front Desmond's) and it's closed, he's on holiday. Gutted, my spider sense now begins to question how good today will actually be. I curse and swear, my hair is a mess and I really really really wanted to look better for next week's days up London. Obviously I jump to blaming you know who for preventing me getting it done last weekend.

The game happens, things get tense between me and my parents.

After the game mother deems it too cold for BBQ. No way! This caps the day, ulitmately it all has gone tits up and suddenly I am bumped back to reality with a real thump. Mild depression kicks in and I just know monday will be a bad one now (although I did have Mr Heddle cheekily texting me after the game, so I guess he isn't pissed off at me). It is another glorious evening but I don't get home until late even though Chris wanted to go out. I wish there was more to report but in the aftermath of all that, nada.

Mr Baldwin, Mr Boyle, Mr Coogan: my ATP crew 

May 21 (Friday): Last day of my tax course, last day of Phoebe. I wake up this morning feeling better than ever, life never feels/looks this good. Outside the weather is very iffy but I don't care. I try better clothes on with view to looking good/better in an attempt to impress. I also switch to CK One (the big guns) after a week of the new Urban range (from Adidas). I try on my zig zaggy shirt and just feel really silly in it. I decide to put on my Millwall away shirt and give my Alfie Moon shirt from new years ago. I am very self conscious about this shirt, it looks fine and actually is really nice but its XL and actually too large and therefore makes me look fatter than I need to. Now I know I am sounding like a bird but I really really want to look good/better and impress this girl! Oh well, whatever, Tony Soprano is fat and pulls off sexy. And tomorrow is Cup Final and Millwall is there and its hitting home and is time to get excited. I fly to the train station buzzing. By the time I am on the train Moyles is on and is making me laugh immediately and then he opens with the new No Doubt track which I love when I really really shouldn't. Today he is on form beyond form, I laugh out loud like a nutter on the train and he plays all the best songs that are sniffing around the charts/playlist right now including Streets and NERD. My mood and moral is the highest it has been in months, momemtum rules. After a train hic-cup at Marble Arch, I'm in like flynn and soon tripping up over my own words talking to the Phoebe but so what. Around 10am Sarah texts "how's life?". Whoops, I am supposed to take her to Van Helsing saturday night but I just wanna the football. Luck falls in my favour, she's working (what a terrible thing to say).

Unfortunately my inital gusto soon peters out. The course/actual learning soon goes to shit. Lunch is so so. I walk out with Phoebe and she skips as she walks down the stairs and it does strange things to me. I try to fish for more info: "have you got a place?". She doesn't actually answer but she tells me about her new car. Unfortunately we don't talk much at lunch and this kind of runs parallel to my crashing in the afternoon. For the first time in months I experience FAD, Friday afternoon depression, pretty much a sadness brought on about my week ending and an empty weekend starting. Also I am spending way too much money this week, today alone I have bought three magazines. Does anyone else get/understand the friday afternoon depression? Maybe its the change/end in routine brought on by the weekend or just the premise that I will not be around people for a couple of days. Oh wells. The course continues to turn to shit while outside the weather blows hot and cold, sunny and dull. I really should be visiting Chris in Greenwich/Cutty Sark this week and today is the day really, if..... I have the mean blues though which makes me feel tired and unable to lift myself. Additionally I lose the will to live and go to Oxford Street instead of aiming straight for the train home and the comfort of the JGRAM flat. The lesson/course ends which means so does Phoebe really for me (unless next week sees me suddenly able to pull new tricks). I leave without a number/address/email, giving or receiving. I feel I have failed, I feel bleak about things all of a sudden. I want home, I want to bed, I want to sleep and then awaken to all things new. Works for me. I text Sarah a bit over the course of the day (that feels like the novelty is now fizzling out) and I also text Azmei, who seems fucking down (no surprise there then). Tom has hooked up on MSN and he messages me after I spend about 90 minutes messaging Dad. I was going to have an early night.....

May 20 (thursday): full of vigor, full of optimism....not. Last night was a sickener and now I feel I have something tangible to worry about regarding work. And my course isn't going very well is it. Still, I have touched base with someone on my course and that's something of an achievement for me. My train ride to London is chipper and the Moyles effect is a good one, the radio genuinely works in the morning and relieves the potentially hour long horror trip. I pick up the Metro and today is Paul Ifill's guide to the Millwall team, it makes me excited. Today when I arrive at Shepherd's Bush Phoebe is already there and she looks up and says "hello". She then sits prompt, ready for conversation. So what do I do? I read my paper and listen back to Moyles on the radio. First break though I make amends and communicate and she actually apologies for not talking first thing, "I'm not a morning person". Bloody hell. She asks me how football went, she remembered. I tell her about my hell but twist it into something (I'm actually quite good at that). Today we talk and its even better than yesterday, wow warmth from a stranger. At lunchtime we tells me all about her kick boxing and tells me about all the different kicks. I react possibly over enthusiastically but whatever this is great, it sounds like what she does is WWF (I will NEVER call it WWE). I fish around for personal details, no new on any boyfriends yet but she does have a sister. Did I mention we discussed pets already? Now that's language/communication that verges on sub-adult. From a learning perspective my course is going to shit, I am learning nothing but with this person on hand I am having the time of my life.

Obviously then by the time it reaches this weeks session I am feeling very good about things. I apologise for my behaviour last week but the good doctor doesn't seem too concerned. I tell her about my work woes and how I fear for my job. She reckons it (the situation) doesn't sound so bad. I dunno, its hard to say. I tell her about Phoebe, this person I have just met and really would like to get to know better, its obvious thats why my mood has swung so positively. We also discuss vitamins and St John's Wort some more (she now turns me onto Cod Liver Oil tabs). She could recommend dried dog turd and I'd probably try it.

Aftershow I head to the supermarkets, sadly my number one out the house activity these days (and I bet I am not alone in suffering from that). Wrongly I feel good and buy expensive and excessive chinese chicken wings from Asda. I also head to Tesco and buy Jack mag, which is unnecessary as I already have enough reading material.

I waste the rest of the evening, I don't struggle and fall asleep almost immediately.

post CUP FINAL: back to the real world. Millwall were really bad and Man Utd took the piss. What the fuck was Millwall's formation? If you're going to play 4-5-1 the 1 needs to be really really shit hot. Neil Harris is all right and nothing more. Had Wise started Harris and McCammon up front, who knows. Ifill and Cahill looked very normal on the day so perhaps now, on the bright side, that might scare off Premier teams from buying/signing them this summer. And bringing on the youngest ever player in a cup final was pretty farcical, I'm a fan and I've never heard of him before, I suspect in order to get into the records one way or another they just had a raffle for the youth team to see who wanted to be the player that beat the West Ham scum's youngest cup final player Paul Allen (ho ho). Bit of a bad day really, I can't say I'm proud of my team/club but at least we bloodied Roy Keane and that fucking freaky Wes Brown.

CUP FINAL. This is so exciting. It is one hour before kick off and it never looked THIS good. Obviously I'm not there, I'm at home and really the game is just the starter for this evening's BBQ. EXCEPT.....everything, all the coverage, is all about Millwall and rightfully so as we are 100 times more interesting and have much more heart than Manchester fucking United. Danny Baker has just made the smartest comment (smart because it echoes my thinking) that the semi final was our cup final, I have been excusing my lack of final tickets for weeks now by going "nothing could top the semi". The atmosphere is transmitting and even at home I am excited beyond belief, more so than I have felt in a long, long time. If things can go right in this, things can go right in life. If Millwall can win the FA Cup than I can achieve an of my miniscule goals (in comparison). Of course no one with a brain is expecting Millwall to win, instead inspecting the boring of Man Utd taking yet another team (though not Arsenal ha ha) to town. BUT there is that small sense of excitement and the just-might-be. Every other minute chills run down my spine, the brain is going "we're gonna get thrashed" but the rest of me (the good parts) are going "we just might pull it off and it just might be the greatest thing going". You can't spell sentimental without the word mental. Man Utd are fucking nervous.

May 19 (wednesday): you better stay out of my way. Again I get it all right, I leave the house at 6.30, get the 6.50, get a seat, get off, get a Metro, get to Shepherd's Bush around 8.30. Today I prepare and plan for the oriental lady. And when I arrive there she is sat in the same place third day running. I prepare to say "hello" to her today in a manly/sexy voice and intend to add "all right?" to add something that might go somewhere. However, I sit down and she doesn't even look up, I could cry. The course goes badly again, Capital Gains Tax on shares? Benefits In Kind? Those are for the rich people. Breakthrough at break though, at the drinks machine I bump into oriental girl and she begins to talk. She is tired. I am curt, my instinct and nature, and blow the opportunity to make a mountain out of a molehill. When the register comes round I look over the names and guess which one she might be. I pick my name and hope to add the name to the face. At lunch I go for it and ask how's things with the course today. It clicks and I'm in like Flynn. We walk talk down Shepherd's Bush High Street, I sound totally goofy and I faux pas by asking "where is your accent from?" to which she replies "what? London?". I thought she might have been an Oriental American with that accent and being she is reading the Financial Times I figure she is Little Miss Big Shot. She introduces herself as Phoebe (so my guess of her name being Phoebe L u k was correct). I head to Safeways and she heads to McDonalds, this I always like, I like nihilistic girls who eat fast food without dying or getting fat. See you silly No Logo/Stupid White Men cunts it is possible. We talk through lunch and I just sound goofy again, I have little life and energy and there is no real spark BUT she remains open and receptive, which I really like/appreciate. I feel much better about things although my/the course is now going to hell for me. I really like this lady, I love her name and think she is gorgeous like an oriental Julia Stiles.

The day soon ends and I am wheeling my way home to play the much anticipated 5-a-side league game against Anglia Grain. I approach the game (and seeing Seymour) with much trepidation. I expect the shit has now hit the fan on Crystal Financial Management. Just as I am on the train home Stevo phones me from work, third day running. He's checking up on my whereabouts and ability to get back in time to play tonight. He isn't talkative as usual, almost cagey, so I sense there is something up Crystal Financial Management finally. For the remainder of the ride home I curl up with stress/tension. What am I walking into tonight? There is a real vibe/atmosphere attached to the game. Steve is fairly tight lipped, Ivan says "hello" and nothing else and I can't even remember Seymour speaking to me. I ask Steve for an update at work. Seems Crystal Financial Management has experienced problems but it is Drew that is getting it in the neck and getting the blame. Can't see why that is? I didn't (couldn't) complete the job fit enough for the hot review which I believe was yesterday. Steve tells me not to worry and I express my concern that I think "I'm going to lose my job over this". And Ivan and Seymour's reception suggest this could be true. Will all this toll in addition to returning from London knackered, football fucks up. I suck up and let in a bomb. My heart removed, in goal I resemble Daria playing volleyball, sticking out a token hand in a non-effort to stop the ball. Things are pretty tight at the beginning but things soon fall to pieces. Ivan gets fucked off and shows off how he gets when things don't go his way and he begins shouting people down. A couple times Seymour fucks up and Anglia score on his errors. I decide to stop passing to him as a gesture of a loss in faith in him to mirror how he seems to have lost faith in me at work. Slowing the halftime score of 6-3 to Anglia becomes a landslide and eventually it's about 23-4 at the close, Seymour scoring a late goal to make sure we don't get shut out in the second half (Ivan stroppily got a first half hat-trick). After the show things at our end make the changing room feel like a morgue. Anglia think they thumped us, thrashed us on merit when in reality we defeated ourselves. I spend no time hanging around after the game, still which is more time that Ivan (now mardy) and Seymour (saying bye to the opposition but not his own team). I am relieved beyond relieved to get home just past seven. The climate is astonishing, like mainland Europe at the height of summer. Eventually I bath, eventually my head hurts. I am really worried about life and work again, something is going to happen monday (you read it here first).

18 May (tuesday): another hot day and today I get the trains right and get a seat! It's the 6.50 train that is fairly empty. Moyles is back on the radio and he actually manages to make me laugh out loud on the train making me look like a dickhead. I get to Shepherds Bush around 8.30. In the classroom the oriental lady is back again and when I turn up and sit down she smiles and says "hello". I go goofy and say "hi" in a startled gay manner. That's the problem with first impressions...... Today is bad, I lose the plot. Inheritance tax is way too involved. I am resorting to copying the answers out of the book and trying to work them backwards and learn that way, the puzzle book method I guess. What a crock of shit, I'm learning nothing. At lunch I attempt to cheer myself up by retail therapy and buying a Best Hip Hop Albums Ever book. I look smart to the oriental girl with my new hip book. For a second day running someone at the fucking office is trying to call my mobile. I'm busy. I get panicky and worry whether it is about Crystal Financial Management, my latest abortion of a job. The day turns out excruciating as in the afternoon is a repeat of not knowing the work once more. Am I dyslexic? I do wonder sometimes. Still, typing this all right even if nobody is actually reading it. No copping feels on the train home tonight, instead stinky male commuters basically appear to be cuddling up to me. When I get in episodes 9 and 10 of series 5 of the Sopranos have turned up (still no sign of them being broadcast on Channel 4/E4 in this country). This series is at times hit and miss but these two episodes are really good. Vito sucking a security guard off? No way! Steve Buscemi's character not going poo. Brilliant! Tony mocking Janice's crap anger management, starting an argument and stomping off to the Kinks' I'm Not Like Everybody Else, which actually was a favourite of Metal Dan. I spend way too long afterwards on the internet looking for Tony's ringtone. I once was in a class where a black bloke's phone went off and it was THAT tune/tone. I forever regret not asking him it's name. Ipswich are then on tv against West Ham and the suckers lose 2-0 which I find satisfying. And then following that is Almost Famous but I fall immediately asleep although I do really dig that film.

May 17th (monday): 5.50 my alarm goes. 6.35 I leave my flat. 7.02 I am standing on a cramped train with the other loser commuters. I got this wrong, didn't I work out how to avoid the busy train? And now even more scarier, I am beginning to recognise faces. In London at 8.00 and hit the Central Line to Shepherd's Bush. At that office there is a "big" lady on the reception/entrance who I really fancy. The course for the week gets under way and I am gung ho and actually understanding some elements of inheritance tax. I recognise people in the course and see a gorgeous oriental girl/lady has sat to my right. Obviously there is an annoying "couple" who know eachother and as per usual they are sat behind me sniggering. Looking around, there are lookalikes, the most striking of which is a spot on Robert Downey Jr who I cannot work out whether is Spanish or Australian from his accent. Looking around also there is crap versions of Shaquille O'Neal, Chris Moyles and Jack Black. Forget that though, the pretty oriental is exchanging smiles me with me. The day flies by and soon I am wheeling home on the train, later than usual. The ride home is enjoyable as some commuter bitch in kneewhoreboats forgets where/who she is whilst falling asleep on the train and she begins cuddling up to me. I don't know what to do other than enjoy the ride. When she wakes up and gets off (but not with me) at Chelmsford her face is visibly red. I could make parts of your body go red baby. I food shop instead of going straight home, resisting the urge to buy the new Morrissey CD, even if it does come with DVD. When I get in a posting card has been left for a package which I pick up and it turns out to be the MISL (Major Indoor Soccer League) trading cards from 1990 I got off Ebay. Why did I bid on/win these? I finally get in at 8pm with every intention of studying/preparing for tomorrows course. I don't, internet and TV are just too damn good/entertaining.

May 16 (sunday): revision day. Does it happen? Kind of. Early to bed therefore early to rise and I wake up way too early and kind of spend the rest of the day trying recoup those missed moments. Of course I do my sunday ritual of watching Frost On Sunday followed by the Heaven And Earth Show (hey some weeks Phillipa Forrester still looks fit enough to bash one out to/over). This week on Heaven And Earth though fucking John Robb of Gold Blade is on there talking about swearing. Nutty. Once thats done its time to make moves. I do my thing getting my rail ticket for Liverpool Street next week and get the News Of The World. Sundays are horrible, there is absolutely nothing to do so you have to create such routines to get through them. Midday onwards should have been all about studying but I don't know. At one BBC showed an old Disney film called the Boatniks. I hoped to see wet beatniks but was let down. Still watched it though, from the late sixties to early eighties Disney made the BEST live action films for kids for some reason, I can reel off lists of dozens of them for you: the Ugly Daschund, Blackbeard's Ghost, the Spaceman And King Arthur blah blah blah. So that all gets in the way of studies and then my fucking neighbours start up. Outside in the communal area the Family Guy Skinhead (ie reformed BNP/NF now working for BT) has set up shop and is having a BBQ with his other nuclear family friends. And I have not been invited. So what, I have FRIENDS and T4 are showing the countdown of the best episodes as voting by the US public (obviously the Prom Night camcorder video episode wins). After that I waste more time on NHL on Playstation instead of actually doing anything. Outside skinhead's kids are playing with others and making a right noise. Smelling their meat (on the BBQ) and gettinf hungry (and resentful) I become Mr Cranky and suddenly decide I hate kids, which is a total u-turn on my eternal desire to be Mr Family Man and live happily ever after (in misery). Back to school though, I do get some studying done but its bleak, I'm really struggling on tax. I don't do it at work to this degree therefore I do not get any practice. I am like a trainee surgeon who is in his eigth year of cleaning up the blood. Soon sunday is over and I don't know where it went. I prepare for an early morning with an early night

May 15 (saturday): I wake up with a fucking terrible headache, I guess a hangover. Except this ain't like a hangover headache, it pangs and I don't think I'm going to be sick. I wake quite early and want to make moves. However Stevo is on my sofa and not moving. I really want to go, I want to go to Colin's and get my shite hair cut and straightened out. It doesn't happen. Time passes and soon it is eleven and Colin will now be thinking about closing up shop for the day. I grump, instead watching the Black Books 2 DVD and holding my head. I really like Black Books, Dylan Moran is a god in my eyes mainly for How Do You Want Me? one of the best BBC comedy dramas this century. I'm harping on. Eventually Stevo gets up and takes a piss. He returns to his heap and I hear my living room TV get switched on. Cunt! Now time is pushing 11.30 and in order to get to my parents to watch their Sky and Ipswich v West Ham on it I need to leave now! I get up and dress and go into my living room to find him watching his Nurses In Heat porno and laughing at it. Officially I am fucked off and equally fucking scared. Subtly I begin tidying up the flat around him as I seem unable (too polite) to tell him to get the fuck out (strangely B never had trouble telling me to do that back in the day).

Eventually he goes and I get to go home to the olds. Ipswich beat West Ham 1-0 but they still fucking suck. I stick around and hang with the olds. I chuck a load of my old stuff on Ebay (inlcuding old Gringo Records CDs I have found) as part of my latest detox, especially now that Atkins has gone tits up. Still, people tell me how I have lost weight (which is bollocks it seems to me). on Sky they show Man Utd and Arsenal, couldn't care less about either but I do fear for Millwall against Man Utd next saturday.

I hang with Snowy, watch Malcolm In The Middle, eat pizza and act like I never grew up or left home, like my friends I am Peter Pan. I leave early evening, primarily to get home to watch Eurovision (sad sad sad). Tonight I should have been going to a gig (Dead Rat Orchestra) or to the cineman (Van Helsing) but instead I mack the best summer evening of 2004 so far and watch Eurovision. As competition BBC2 show Fight Club which I fancy much more but as soon as it comes on I fall asleep. Life in the fast lane.

Gringo Records Gringo Records Gringo Records Gringo Records Gringo Records

May 14 (friday): I currently am very down and all blame falls on work. Crystal Financial continues to drive me bolo and this is really hindered by the fact that their main director who is keeping books isn't helping me out. And then Granddad makes more digs about my Pipeline job. I really don't know why he is so on my case, I can guess as my attitude brought on by HIS actions is the worst but he cast the first stone. And this is all tit for tat and childish but it seems he is the bigger kid. I can't cope with this pressure, I never faced this stress at my previous two employers. I really ought to leave but I fear I'll only wind up facing such problems all over again. Or maybe not. Who knows? My best bet seems to move on. Lucky for me Azmei can see I'm tearing my hair and she suggests that we go to lunch. We don't really talk about things but its just nice to be there and be with someone. Its all laboured but makes me feel better nad brings me back down to earth. She also comes with me to Holland And Barrett to get the St John's Wort stuff (and my annual exam revision Gingko). She then buys flowers for a cemetry visit at the weekend, flowers which I end up carrying back to the office while she goes to the opticians. I either looked really romantic or really wet carrying flowers around town, I couldn't decide.

Straight from work me and Stevo meet Chris at the Odeon to watch Football Factory. I realise this makes two fridays running watching that film, is that healthy? The version in the cinema is quite different to my bootleg copy, most notably the soundtrack and Danny Dyer's voiceover. I actually prefer the "rough" cut. Oh well.

Its not even 7pm when we leave the cinema so the night is on early. And it is a blazing glory. We head for Edwards and chill out. Stevo and Chris are chalk and cheese. I just want to sit and mong, I don't really want to get pissed up beyond belief so I leave them two to it. Whilst there Lucy keeps calling Chris and I text Sarah to see if she wants to come out. No dice.

Things get ropey at Edwards around 9pm so we head for the Playhouse and do the old OLD friday night routine. By now Stevo is pretty pissed and Chris is beginning to misbehave. As we get there, opposite outside Vagabonds is Jim Jepps our old ex-housemate, the socialist! We give a nervous laugh and hope he doesn't see us. Inside the Playhouse we luck out and get seated. We look around and take it all in. The Playhouse is not as busy these days as it used to be and last time I was there on a friday, most people almost seemed pre-teen. Tonight people still look young but not TOO young. Not many girls are attractive, most are skanks. The real good looking ones look mongrel. We recognise faces but know not names. Then I see someone from our football team wednesday. Stevo denies it is him (James Warner) so we don't acknowledge him. To be honest though, he looks much better off without us. We then see Paul from Birkett Long (our soccer victims) and for the first time in history, he acknowledges me away from five-a-side. And then our final recognition: Gimp Boy. Steve finds much amusement in his lack of glasses for the first time and the fact he's on his own, Steve is so harsh on Gimp Boy I begin to pity the fool. Again Chris gets a/the call and gets tetchy about leaving this place to go to the Hole In The Wall. Stevo is oblivious to this apparent urgency and I just think its funny, I am never in a hurry to go to that fucking place.

Eventually we get to the Bumhole and Chris hooks up. Steve Nice is out and as ever rubs me up the wrong way, luckily tonight though Stevo is in place to amuse them and take the brunt of their useless snide remarks. Die already!

For some reason we go to the Arts Centre and reggae night. WHY????? In the queue my cousin Phill grabs and talks. He is the success story of my family, not me. We have crackheads in Greenstead but still I am not top of the heap. With Phill also is Phill's friend including Lindsey's friend Frances. I wonder what (if) stories Lindsey has told about me.

We get in and struggle to get into the groove (although eventually we do). Chris disappears. Lucy disappears. I am left holding the Stevo bag. We see Jez from five-a-side and I watch him as he attempts to chat to Vanessa Paradis (alike) and her odd looking attractive friend. I watch in awe as really I fancy them most. I watch unsurprised when they shoot him down.

Tonight at the Arts Centre is hard work, not many faces out I know and no one else to talk to. With minutes to go the smell of desperation is the heaviest stench and right now two funny looking women (not quite mingers) are beginning to buzz around me and Stevo. However, at this point Stevo declares fuck it and we leave at 1.50 AM just as our star/best chance were shining. Probably for the best I guess

We leave and for the first time Stevo is complaining about spending too much money ("really?"). Because of this we opt out of food for home (although I do slightly home Stevo will get a pizza). On the way back we pop into Chernobyl, I have a suit jacket to pick up and stationery for next week. Stevo gets to working at Sage and starts shouting at the screen on his PC ("password? fucking password?") and flobbing at it. This is a bad place to be. We break into the Butt Road car park and Stevo drink drives us home (badly). We get in shattered, defeated and beaten. I'm officially off socialising, I no longer want to go out or get drunk ever again. I have another headache and its name is Stevo. I crash out but joy of joy find a film worthy of our situation: Grumpier Old Men

May 12 (wednesay): I go into work pretty pissed off. I barely speak to Azmei but manage it. At lunchtime me and Chris go to lunch with Stevo at Nandos. He pays for all three of us, we are slags. In the afternoon things are made worse when Barlow reviews my Pipeline work and fails to say a good work about anything of it, instead choosing to pick holes in the most petty of issues. Useless Granddad. In the evening we play football against Birkett Long and we stuff them so I don't really worry or put much effort into saving shots. After I go shopping I go home, life in the fastlane.

May 13 (thursday): more grief at work and Crystal Financial Management is a beast that won't die. Is it me or am I being giving the worst jobs going in the firm? Worse, me and Sarah were supposed to be going to see Van Helsing saturday night (a compromise on Troy) but now unforts she is now working. At lunchtime I really blow my Atkins and buy the biggest, meanest sandwhich roll in history from Spar. It is fucking foul. I dunno. I go to my session with a headache, feeling stressed out. It turns out to be a really emotional session and pushed I would have teared. Things are getting on top of me: exams, qualification and now work most of all. Work has never stressed me out before but management where I work appear to be negative motivators and they only make me feel bad, bad as in incompetent and useless. I get asked if I am thinking about gargling draino and, to be honest, I have been. I ask if I think I am clinically depressed. It's never been proved. It is suggested that I visit my GP and get back on anti-depressents. I can't though, with exams coming up it would mean I'd just snooze through revision and exams. I get recommended/suggested something called Sir John's Wort instead, a vitamin, herbal anti depressant. At this point I will give anything a go. I leave feeling battered and low and very embarassed at being so frank and what feels pathetic. As promised I go around Chris' afterwards although I really don't want to and I am not in the right frame of mind. We try putting a hooky version of Photoshop on his PC (after he feeds me) but it doesn't work. I leave just after ten. I don't win friends with salad

May 9 (sunday): I go home I think. I should be revising but instead I am watching my parents Sky and eating their food whilst grunting at them like Kevin The Teenager (still!).

May 10 (monday): up Holborn for my final Advanced Tax class before the revision course. Once more I draw a blank and don't get it, instead I sit thinking about the NBA and NHL and playing them on Playstation or Playstation 2. I am not going to pass at this rate. Still, it is a LOT better than work. When I get back to Colchester I have to pick up the firm's bubble car for tomorrow morning, I finally get in around 8pm and I am fucked. I spend the remainder of the evening playing NHL 2001 on Playstation 2 and while I am doing this Azmei texts me to ask me if I need a lift in the morning and to tell me that she is going to hand in her notice tomorrow, she is "bored" at work. This upsets me to say the least.

May 11 (tuesday): back in Mildenhall. Got there earlier today and got busy. I do a really good job, meeting my goals and leaving on time. Things feel good work wise. Unfortunately I text Azmei in the afternoon and she confirms that she has handed her notice in, I am upset/pissed off to hear this. Today I don't drive the bubble car 100mph or do 60mph in second gear, instead I play my tape at fullest volume. Big bass. Woofer woofer.

May 8 (saturday): I was going to go to the New Den today and get FA Cup Final tickets. Whoops, they sold out thursday, Season Ticket holders got. Season Tickets only cost £395, that should be considered for next year.

Stevo talks me into going to see AFC Wimbledon and I feel obliged as it is the last game of the season and I am yet to go to a league match this year (whoops). Today is their final game of the season against AFC Wallingford. Technically it is an away game but its played at Kingsmeadow for a larger crowd and for the Dons to get their trophy in front of their own crowd.

I drag and the trains are murder. By the time I hook up with them I have a headache and am not really up for drinking. As usual the PISA gang all call me "Millwall" and all ask "have you got your ticket yet?". Rub it in. The ground is rammed, this is more than non-league. AFC Wimbledon win 2-1 and the crowd go mental, it's a laugh.

After the game and the trophy ceremony (and lap of honour) we pop into the Robert Peel. Three dancing ladies except one of them can't dance. Still, one REALLY can dance, wrapping her legs royally around the pole and showing more strength than any man. My pound is hers. And there is the bird in the boots and nurse's outfit too. Fantastic!

Dr Stevo gets us non-Atkins pizzas and we head to the Bricklayers Arms where PISA out in strength get lairy and Stella'd up. We stand outside the pub with two flags covering the outside of the pub. It is the first great weekend of the summer. Its all too much for me though, me head canes and especially when El Tanno prank calls me, me thinking it is this kinky American lady called Regina I met in December. He has no idea of the psychosis he almost triggered and how aroused it made me. Shock horror today though, someone else throws up instead of me. YES!

Me and Stevo leave the pub to return to Kingsmeadow to celebrate with the players and I have a number of PISA shouting at me for a Millwall song. I just smile but Stevo starts singing "Let 'Em Come" at them. Scary. I pull a sly one here and get back on at Norbiton and head home. I love riding the train home saturday nights, the sunday papers early and likewise people travelling tired after an exciting day (opposite me are two old people and I just think they are the greatest). I also love getting in on a saturday night (late) with a sense of wellbeing blah blah blah.

where did the days go? Here is the last two weeks in rock and the state of the union:

May 2 (sunday): I spend all day MSN Messengering Sara in Dubai. She finishes work at 6pm their time (3pm our time). I spend the rest of the day not revising but watching The Day Today DVD. I fall asleep.

May 3 (bank holiday monday): likewise as yesterday, MSNing a bored Sara at her work while I spend the day listening to The Streets MP3s and trying to be arsed to actually leave the house and buy foodstuffs. I rains a storm though, therefore I fear going outside. Thankfully the ever reliable shows a Britney Spears concert. She has turned into a total prostitute!

May 4 (tuesday): tonight I meet Sarah and we go to see Eternal Sunshine Of A Spotless Heart. When we first meet (in Edwards) she tells me I have lost weight (thanks Atkins) and that she nearly didn't recognise me. I love the film I think it is fantastic and as per usual, the cinema almost makes me cry (see blub at Lost In Translation in January). Sarah says she likes it but I can tell she was bored. I walk her to her car, on the ghetto side of Colchester, and she tells me her favourite films are Predator and Terminator 2. Add this to her also fancying Gary Lineker when she was younger and I am amused. Not long after I get in (alone) she texts and says she had fun and we should see Troy when it comes out.

May 5 (wednesday): fuck knows what happens today. Granddad at work gives me grief. We don't play football.

May 6 (thursday): I go to a client's in Mildenhall. Needless to say I get lost finding it but not TOO lost. I have a whale of a time at Pipeline Maintenance and the client loves me. I am late however leaving and I have a session this evening. I ended up turning up to it in my suit and I look good and I feel good. The session is fantastic, it's not me it's them after all (apparently). Afterwards I am feeling high so I go out to Asda and Tesco as somewhere to wear my suit out and to hopefully bump into people. I am turning into Patrick Bateman.

May 7 (friday): got Football Factory and the Passion Of The Christ on hooky DVDs today. Have to admit Football Factory bored me a bit but there are some amazing shots of the Surrey Quays walk to the New Den, it is that intimidating in real life. Passion Of The Christ really bored me. Silly fucking film, unneccasarily extreme.

Favourite song of the moment: Die Die by Karate. I really shouldn't be listening to this old shit but it just sounds so great. It reminds me of living on Butt Road and working at Wood & Disney and actually doing Gringo Records (just before it went totally tits up) and having friends through a genuine love of music and actually skimming on being hip. All this music doesn't appear to have much of a purpose right now.

Saturday and I'm moving so slowly, where does the day go? I attempt to tidy my flat, fill three bin bags and there still doesn't seem much difference to the place. I don't actually leave the house until 1pm which then means I'm searching around everywhere for a newspaper in the afternoon. what's the deal with the Guardian on a saturday, it sells out almost immediately. It takes me about an hour to find somewhere selling it, really annoying really considering I mainly get it just for the tv guide. I go home to the parents and do jack, Millwall are on Sky and they have Sky and I don't. I'm mildly embarassed when Dad cleans my car for me but fuck it, it's covered in bird shit and needs a clean before said bird shit stains the paint work. While I am there my aunt visits and she makes some comment about me now being a grown and having lost lots of weight ("Atkins"). Millwall play at Derby on Sky and are fucking terrible, losing 2-0. Again I can barely remember them having a shot in the second half. The real revelation occurs when I get home. I seem to be having new month resolutions for May and really sticking to them. Upon getting home, on a saturday night, I set about insanely organising my life and begin studying and plotting my upcoming career in stocks and shares. In a very rare display of energy I am on full steam well into the early hours on giving out around 3 AM, which is unheard of by me. It's all good.

Friday started out really well but proceeded to go totally downhill from there, I really would have been better off not leaving the house, it is safe in there. Small things please small minds and when I unearthed an old classic in Bee Bee's Song by Sonic Youth from the Suburbia soundtrack I felt a bit lighter, a bit cooler and a lot more carefree. And then add to this just how ridiculously excited/happy I was when Paul Reubens/Pee Wee Herman appeared in Everyone Loves Raymond as a comic store shop owner, I was in a pretty fine mood. The comic thing is worringly exciting me at the moment since I found the cbr format and the CDisplay program that shows the comics. Anyways, I trudge to work and Azmei is her usual grump self in the car and then the walk to work is then silence as Lindsey turns three into a crowd. The Lindsey remains and neither of us are talking and I we seem happy with this but every fucker else has to interfere and make comments and turn a nothing situation into something big. This unfortunately manifests into a huge something when I get bitched at for being the reason Lindsey isn't coming to lunch, to which I don't really want to go myself and mountains of blame is dumped on my shoulders while little miss butter wouldn't melt in her mouth Lindsey cries wolf (I guess). So after receiving a ton of grief for all this why are they surprised when I'm not exactly chirpy come said lunch. Ultimately I feel betrayed and acting over sensitively I get minorly stroppy and my day gets ruined. And this is something I know I should turn the other cheek to but I just don't seem able to do so, instead I act like some stroppy brat kid. Go figure. Nevermind, a day is only 24 hours long.

Thursday sees me out staying my welcome hanging with Azmei at lunch. Today the weather is shite and I am not able to wear my suit and as a result I feel a scruffy, pikey fuck. I'm beginning to notice how intimidated and vulnerable I am feeling. At lunchtime I drop the Atkins and go Italian sandwich (this afternoon Ivan gives me shit for not going to Nando's with him). In the evening is another uninspiring session with the counsellor from which I come feeling slightly better and relieved. To celebrate on that and the fact it is almost payday I splash out on Chinese chicken wings in Asda. Things seem to begin improving immediately, especially when Sarah texts me to see if I want to go out next week.

Wednesday. Don't remember much so it must have been ok. Thankfully five-a-side was cancelled but this was after Stevo phoned me at 8.30 in the morning telling me how he was still "fucked" after monday. Workwise I cleared my load. This was also the night I fell asleep early to wake up around midnight wide awake and agitated. I watched the movie Spun and it is pretty much fucking terrible to be honest. I may try it on again someday but it's shit served up as ice cream and don't you deny it.

just downloaded Sonic Nurse the new Sonic Youth off Soulseek and it is really really good.

Never one to take irrational dislikings to people (ho ho), I currently really can't stand people with lisps. I hate them.

Tuesday is very bad. I rush a job which means I'm not doing the best of jobs on it. My already knocked confidence hangs in balance as I brace myself for grief. It doesn't come but I do become paranoid at every glance from said partner reviewing my work.

At lunchtime Azmei and I actually have lunch and a conversation. Maybe she felt bad because I described her as a "crummy friend these days". Fair comment. Still, I'm flogging a dead horse.

I do however buy the best trousers in history from T K Maxx. They do turn out to be sleepwear but I never had any intention of wearing them out and they feel so good.

Monday was good. The trains were screwed up at Shenfield and I was almost late to Holborn. The guy teaching us audit is called Ben Wakefield and he is great. I think the best tutors would also make good standup comedians and he fits the bill. Being late I didn't get my choice of seating (an OCB for me) and also coming in late, I blush when this really great looking girl has to sit next to me. As its monday our enthusiam for the class is very low so as a break teacher forces us to speak/talk to the person next to us about our weekend for five minutes, I luck out. Unfortunately I am not at my best. I've done the thing of "I can go another day without really go far with hygiene" so I'm feeling pretty minging. Still the girl, who turns out to be called Katy, is really nice and receptive as I just sound like a stuttering fuck (for some reason at the moment I am akin to a bag of nerves), which is nice. The day actually flies by and the subject does not seem beyond my reach.

Today is also the day our (BS & Co's) 11-a-side football match against a client called Prashar. I turn up with no real intention of playing (a combo of drop in current form and subtly being dropped in favour for a guy called Marshall). I get on however in the second half unprepared with us losing 1-0. We end the game winning 4-1 with me keeping a clean sheet in the second. This may have been different however had I had to contend with any real shots. Afterwards we head to the Hospital Arms for an aftershow do. For some reason our previously very social company these days is very unsocial and for a change people are out, although not for long. I wind up being there until the end although not really involved except for the point in which our dentist client starts talking about cocaine (and my ears prick up). I'm really bad at socialising these days.