Fatigue

Quite a while ago now, I wrote an entry called Catharsis. It was quite popular, if the statistics ran by the web service I'm using are correct, twenty-something views solid. Obviously it wasn't as popular as the last one, but then again we all like having a laugh at some sap who goes ga-ga of a girl, huh? Especially when that sap is old Capitain Pebblez, eh? You know what happened there, of course. A few days after it hit the net madamoiselle in question went and listed herself in a relationship...with someone else. Right. Fine. Same as it ever was. I should hate for it to have turned out any other way.

I went out on saturday night for Brill Bri's birthday booze up, complete with her friends from way back when and a good few Spammers. I bank roll for one, I buy a lot of booze. I generally enjoy being attached to her side. &c &c, you know, I think she's just lovely. So anyway, I discus the matter of this particular with one of the sops; I did her a favour, so I asked her to do mine. Quote? "Don't even go there. Really don't. You'll find someone eventually." Jesus H. Christ. Turns out, yes that's right fact fans, she's already seeing someone else already. Whod've thunk it, EH? As per usual, I can't tell anyway, but what the hell man, better to have found out this way? RIGHT. Fine. Same as it ever was. I should hate for it to have turned out any other way.

This leaves me firlmy where I always begin: Square Zero. Null. Nowhere. RIGHT. FINE. Same as it ever was.
As ever, I can do nothing about it. So, I must leave off for now. For good! No, not quite, but certainly for the next fortnight. I needs must complete my degree first! Women will always be outside of my sphere of comprehension, grasp, jurisdiction &c, but a degree is almost there. I've done most of the technical work as far as my project is concerned. The write up awaits, as does the tuning of the instrument, which I'll do on 3" wind in the UEA Christmas Cracker. A simple releathering of keys and sureing up of the case has worked wonders. It's nowhere near as good as it could or even should be, but it's ok. It should turn out ok.
As for the Dissertation, I'm stuck. I haven't done any hardcore work for over a week now, as I've hit somewhat of a wall. However, all is not lost, as it actually stands at about four thousand words. I'm going to pull through! I know it. There's no substitute for hard work, right?

Actually, maybe there is. I just haven't discovered it yet.

I have of late - but wherefore I know not - lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of excercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, - why it seems no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

That's right you fuckers, how dare you call me inhumane, I quoted Hamlet. Let's get down to brass tacks though, and cut through all this crap, shall we?

I'm tired. I'm not just fed up, I'm genuinely wearing out. My patience is a nothing but a nasty rumour at the best of times, but now it's just a folk tale. My insomnia is peaking. My usually cast-iron eating habit is beginning to suffer as I start to forget to eat. Before long I shall stop concentrating on my sentences and start firing expletives at high velocity in every direction, including those you don't know about. A lot of things make me angry, and right now one of those things is Chamber Choir. Quite frankly we've bitten off slightly more than we can chew. Actually, it wouldn't be if various people knuckled down and just paid attention and just got on with it instead of fucking not. I couldn't give a shit that nobody else for your part has turned up tonight, you get the fuck on and do your best. Maybe you think it's not good enough? Maybe you think you can ruck up when you like and it'll all go fine? No. Actually it doesn't work like that. Sorry for spoiling your presupposed misconceptions about the world! My Bad! I didn't know you were so sensitive.

"Oh yeah", you say, "Here it comes, the bit where he says he's better than everyone". Well, frankly that's not true. I'm not better than everyone else. I still have to work for it. I work damn hard. Remember how much of a welcome I get for being a countertenor. I'll tell you what though, if you push yourself as hard as I do, I bet you'll even surprise yourself. I can take in a breath that last up to three times longer than an other beknighted member of the choir, because I know how to deal with my breathing and don't expect any less from myself. I pitch a descending flat 7th right every time because guess what! I fucking make it happen. I do the best that I can to keep in tune all the time. Sometimes it doesn't work, at least I admit to it. I haven't heard any of these pieces that we're singing unless I've done them before. I will find it inside myself to make them right without copying anything else. Maybe I'm not being fair though. Maybe I take it too far because I'm obsessed with singing. Funny, eh? An obsessive compulsive completely obsessed with the science and art of singing, which just happens to be his principal study at University? POW! WHERE DID THAT FASTBALL JUST COME FROM? JESUS H. CHRIST.

I've been snowed under from day one. You try being depressed 24/7 (actually, I wouldn't really advise it, but roll with it). You try feeling so empty and lost that you need an hour to look your door handle in the face and leave your own fucking room. I'm not saying that's every day, but I've been there more than once, and definitely more than I wish to be ever again. Looked in the mirror lately? Do you see a human being looking back at you? Good. I don't. What? Go ahead, read it again. Of course I don't think of myself as a human being like the rest of you. Newsflash! I will never be one of you. There's one person who seems to actually understand and critically, accept how I feel and think and work. I worry about him as much as some of you must worry about me. I've got his back and he's got mine; that's how we work.

I'm tired. I'm tired of all the things I said last time, you know. I'm tired of being alone and depressed and being single forever and importantly, being autistic and obsessive compulsive, and now I'm also really very tired of working myself to the bone for what seems to be no reason. I'm all but worn out, but I still have a way to go. I won't stop, because that's not part of the plan, and I know that I'm Indestructible. My last post isn't all that it seems; it's a second draft. I don't usually ever check these for vitriol, but I did last time. I had to start again because I was hating on myself so much for getting depressed and defeatist. I'll check for vitriol in this one, I won't be a minute...HA HA.
We're good. I'm an angry man at the moment. And I'm very angry about one specific thing more than anything else for once. I think that this should reflect a little clearer than I usually let it. I've been so bothered about trying to get a date/laid/whatever that I've taken my eye off the ball somewhat and not realised my temper's still on the boil. Whoops. SAME. AS. IT. EVER. WAS.


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