Bah

Its just all so pointless.

I've got no idea what I'm doing.

Well, at work I have a vague idea, the general direction I'm heading in. But the rest of it, at home, no idea.

The nuddy blog, I can shout at it all I like, but its not very satisfying, the wee incremental authority points on technorati as more people link to it. They don't fill me with joy. I just see each one as being a step towards some unrewarding goal.

I went to Brent Cross today, and bought one of them Nike+ widgets for your ipod, you stick a thing in your trainer and it tracks how far you've run. But dear god, how I hate shopping, I want to get in and get out as quickly as possible. Its the people I hate, the families, the couples, the groups of friends. I want to get in and get out and away.

I was stuck at traffic lights when I realised I'll soon be too old for 18-30 holidays.

I was surfing porn trying to find something to draw and kept seeing pictures of ex-girlfriends, naked women who look like ex-girlfriends. And I remembered how they all slipped away.

Whereever they are now, happy or sad, I'm not with them, and there ain't no going back. There's just gazing from a great distance and bitterly remembering what happened. And the pointlessness of it all.

I can barely be arsed to write up the latest LNFGIES. I've got notes I scribbled at the Lucky Soul gig at the Luminaire, but its mostly bored and bitter shit. There's no point in writing it up. The four or five people that read it, its not enough.

I was thinking about it, reviewing these gigs, these gigs where there's only four or five people there. The band barely makes enough money to cover the bus fair, so what chance does a reviewer have? There ain't no money in being a professional reviewer for these shows. There never can be or them shows wouldn't be them shows. Its inherent that it aims for the bottom.

Its Friday fucking night, and I'm ranting hopelessly at the computer screen.

I could have called Nick or Matt or Fiona or countless other folk, lets go for a beer. But more realistically, I can't. My head doesn't let me.

This one time I was in WHSmiths in the Arndale centre, they were giving away free mini bars of chocolate with all purchases. I politely declined. But then, on walking out of the shop, I realised I was quite hungry and actually really wanted a mini bar of chocolate.

So I gaze blankly at Soulmates, trying desperately not focus on the people I've already crashed and burned with countless times. But for every new face I see, I just see a future failed relationship, another addition to people I've loved and who've slipped away. I try to bury the thought. "But hey, we might hit it off..." - "... and then six months or so down the line break up and never get back together..." - "... actually, we probably wouldn't get on, we'd go for coffee, it would be just about okay, she'd say hey I'll call you later in the week, and then six months later after hearing nothing, its just awkward, embarrassing to" Best not bother.

In fact, setting fire to the Guardian offices, the Apple store, and every live venue in the UK, its the only way to be sure.

Also deleting all the failed and unsatisfying blogs, photies and youtube videos, its the only way to be sure. No going back or thinking "Hey remember when...". Burn all the post-it notes.

It won't make a blind bit of difference will it?

Ooh, Twee Ass-Fuck all dayer tomorrow, it could be fun.