Tuesday, July 11, 2006

The Return Of The Man Who Never Came Back

It's been over three months since I wrote anything on here. It would be nice to be able to report that it's because I've been finishing my novel (which will probably happen sometime after I start it, I suppose), or at the very least that I'm unable to get to the computer not only because I'm quite drunk but also because Susan Sarandon's sitting on my face. Alas, no.

No, it's all been down to a combination of Work and Beer, I'm afraid. Work which stresses me out and gnaws away at what passes for my immortal soul, and Beer, which seems to help with the stress but saps my will to do anything except hit the sofa and watch terrible TV. I've even taken to watching Big Brother. "Why?" you might ask. "Fucked if I know." I would respond, because I still truly hate the programme, and if I walked into a bar and the inhabitants of the Big Brother house were there, then I'd leave. Immediately. Even if I'd already ordered a drink. And I'm not someone who leaves an unfinished pint of Stella without good reason. So why, then, am I suddenly prepared to let the sight and sound of these attention-seeking sub-normal fuckers into my living room? Who can say?

Anyway, I've decided that as this blog is the only even mildly creative outlet I have at the moment I can't let it shrivel up and die, even if the only visitors are my chum Gareth, one or two assorted Yanks and of course Toad. (I'd be hard-pressed to explain what Toad is.)

So there you go. I'm back. Sort of.