On bad days and insomnia

So, yesterday began badly. I hope the information I received/stumbled across is incorrect otherwise I am certain to lose two friends...at least for the time being. I will also certainly not enjoy the next year of uni...or at least the first term. Even if I am wrong, this still means I have been lied to by at least one person. Who can you trust these days? My guess is nobody; trust nobody and keep all your secrets to yourself. I hope that whichever party lied to me realises their error and decides to put things right, otherwise things could get really nasty and I don't wish for that to happen to anyone involved.

The conclusion to all this is that I am to become a monk and live a life of celibacy. This way I need not worry about girls or guys in any way at all. It is, after all, mainly the want of a partner and the want of somebody else for the same partner which leads to a lot of life's little issues. I think becoming a monk is the solution to everything. Imagine if everyone became a monk (or nun). Humankind would die out but the last generation would be far better off =]

On a more positive note, I'm sure I have insomnia. Well that's not so positive, but it meant that I finally got to watch Eden Lake. I made sure to watch it in the dead of the night, alone, with the lights turned very low. I still wasn't at all terrified. I really desire a film which scares me so much that I couldn't watch it. So far this has never happened. True Eden Lake is incredibly disturbing, but the issues at hand are spoken of on a daily basis anyway: somebody has been stabbed; somebody has been run over; somebody has been burnt alive; two adventurers have been caught and tortured - and all by chavs. I suppose that is the main selling point of the film, it shows what chavs can be like. Then again it shouldn't be taken as bible because there are many other fucked up sadists out there too. All in all it was a brilliant film, a masterpiece even. The actors are truly fantastic, particularly Jack O'connell (most recogniseable as Cook from Skins series 3) as the gang leader, Brett. Brett...I'm sure that name should represent pretty boys from chick flicks with everything going for them and the pick of the girls. The sort that are good at all sports and all subjects. Nice to know that some Brett's fuck everything up for themselves =]

So, no sleep for me today. I need to fix my body clock which means staying up all day and going to bed at a normal time then getting up early tomorrow. Going to take my little brother swimming later. I haven't been swimming for a long time but I do seem to remember the water always being cold =[. Hopefully this should take my mind of all my troubles right now. Fingers crossed.

Tata for now x

My eyelids see only orange

My eyelids see only orange.

High pitch screeches and intense buzzing.

Backfiring and Sirens.

The occasional shout from insomniacs.

My eyelids see only orange.

My brain pushes through my skull.

Roasting in an oven of fabric and feathers.

Rustling fingers of green, taunted, tortured and tormented by an unseen hand.

My eyelids see only orange.

Darkness doesn't exist in this room.

Silence cannot be kept at bay.

Every sound causes another disruptive thought.

I cannot sleep.

My eyelids see only orange.

Where do I begin?

So, welcome to my new blog.

This is really just a place for me to cram all my ideas; a journal which will not be left to gather dust, half completed, under a bed or pile of old clothes. I really must begin writing again but...

• I have a dissertation to at least draft within the next 10 weeks. On average that means 1000 words per week plus a fuck load of research into the dark realm of Jack the Ripper and Victorian Whitechapel. Add in the fact that my Jack is a vampire slaying hero and therein lies another work producing issue - how do I go about researching all this vampire malaki, whilst maintaining a certain degree of believability within my future masterpiece. The main plot will still be based on real events with real places at real times and real characters. Hell it's even gonna be acurate as far as what the characters were wearing at the time. But then come the Vampires. Bram Stoker's Dracula is a masterpiece; that novel is believable yet entirely fictional. I mean when I was reading that, every little tap at the window was obviously a bat. I think I almost shat myself several times on an hourly basis whilst perusing that piece of work. Why then do I struggle to make a link between the believable and the supernatural?

• I need to crack on with my poetry, however, having just submitted 13 poems for a unit at university, I seem to have stumbled across a block. I need some sort of inspiration to begin again. At uni i was using photos I found on the web, but I need more than that; I need something I relate to personally. I am fed up of creating fantasy environments and imagining situations for characters I care so little about I don't even bother to name. I guess even the made up characters sympathise with my own characteristics, but even then they are very far from the true me. I need lubrication for my brain, oil for my mind...but where?