under another sun

Editing and housework. A Sainsbury's delivery, including a broken bottle of wine that ruined things and made the house smell of booze. Searching for a lens that popped out of my glasses cannot be found despite me Pooterishly creeping about on hands and knees in various rooms. No gym. No French work. Nothing happening but editing. Gah. Happy to see Lorraine.

Siamese fighting fish A spot of freelance topical fish consultancy today: the result was that Beth bought a gorgeous scarlet male Siamese fighting fish and three tiny neons for her new aquarium. As well as the fish, Beth also scored an unendorsed plastic SpongeBob SquarePants snail called Gary. Once these were installed, Lorraine and I finished off painting her bathroom and toilet. And Lorraine drove me home, where I had a quiet night, chatting to Mum Mase and Toby, and thinking about work. I wrote the following poem some time ago about being trapped by boredom, and the petty cruelties boredom can lead to. Boredom, as I have mentioned before, is an emotion I rarely experience. However the work I have been doing over the last month or so has, uniquely, made me feel trapped in my study. Siamese fighting fish bored stupid in my box room, I taunt the fighter in its tank. Betta splendens , a scarlet flag unfurling from Java fern; a murderous Narcissus who falls madly for my mirror. in the w...

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man Shakespeare, King John, Act3 scene 4 God I'm bored. Days alone typing wads of copy, and having no energy at all due to stupid prostatitis, antibiotic horse pills etc. I loathe myself when I'm like this. And when I'm not feeling bored, I am feeling frustrated with being so run down that I can't go to the gym. Getting fatter by the hour. First lot of erection copy sent off this morning. Spent the rest of the day getting my grey matter around the next tranche of ailments. Spoke on the phone to Lorraine and my mum. Explained in some detail to both how bored I was. There was an hour when I wasn't bored. I broke off for a walk down to a sea. It was smooth. Then I bought an egg cup. And returned home to talk to my kitten. I installed the new magnetic catflap, which only involved 2-3 bouts of swearing. Calliope hates it. In the evening prepared an entry for the Poetry Business Competition - for...

Argh Will this week never end? I almost never feel bored, but I am bored rigid. For me boredom is such a rare emotion, it is almost a novelty, but not quite. That would make it almost interesting. God I'm bored. I'm Waiting for Godot bored. Nothing to be done other than slump under a tree and watch its three leaves fall off - the week yawns open like a chasm. I have no motivation to do anything other than go to work and sit at home typing about how bored I am. Next week will be an oasis of non-boredom, a glittering edifice of interest. But today a soul numbing ennui fest. Argh.