No photo for this one… | empty bottle

Leeeeeet’s play… ah fuck… what’s the fucking tag bloody html thing um… fuck. Triangle brackets.
Let’s play how much wine has nav drunk!

I watched a German movie called Kammerflimmern or for some reason “Off Beat” in English, and it was fucking lovely.
I am totally in love with Matthias Schweighöfer, he’s such a gorgeous boy – I must have a thing for blonde guys because I fell in mad-crazy lust with Michael Pitt in The Dreamers, though it was hard going with Eva Green and Louis Garrel on screen… at the same time no less, and all in various states of… total nakedness. Better than porn because porn has no romance in it and I find romance so much more gratifying. Although Michael Pitt did play a bit of a cunt in Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but that film is so overflowing with gorgeous it didn’t matter. Poor bastard. I’ll keep him as Matthew from Dreamers in my dreams… ha that sounds funny.

Jessica Schwarz is also goddamn sexy, especially as she plays the role of a pregnant woman – sorry I’m back on Kammerflimmern. Yeah she was so beautiful. I was glad when SHIT DON’T SPOIL IT yeah anyway, I was just glad. Poor girl, but she gets to smile and cry and all the good stuff.

Three cheers for ambiguous endings! Although it wasn’t ambiguous if you have your thinking cap on.
I’m wondering just how much wine I have to drink before movies stop making sense, though I think if I saw a hollywood cockduster right now it would probably make me cry with its stupidity, absurdness and total nonsense bullshit.

FUCK YOU HOLLYWOOD. Though I’m sure I’d probably be right into some… what do they call it when they do that? Avant garde or post-postmodern or whateverhtefuck… I would probably get into a movie that has absolutely no dialogue and was just absurd stunt after absurd stunt with a brief pause for mindnumbingly irrelvent sex. Maybe a fancy car and maybe some fancy cars that get all smashed up except you know they just make a shell of them because they can’t actually afford to ding a real Lamborghini. Jesus I spelt that right first go without the little red line appearing, I clearly haven’t had enough wine yet.

You know what I would do if you were here? I would slowly slowly slowly remove your clothes, one piece at a time, then press my fingertips to your body and move about, almost like a massage but sexier and less therapeutic (another one I spelt right first go! I know it’s not a particularly hard one, not hard at all, but I thought it would be and now I find it hilariously funny that I got it right and that I thought it would be hard oh bollocks, enough of that).
Fuck.
I fucked it up.
Start again.
I would caress you firmly all over your body, and then pleasure you all night long just by touch, and we wouldn’t even have to have sex and THAT WOULD DO ME JUST FINE because nothing… NOTHING turns me on more than a woman enjoying herself. You’d have to help me out of-course, but that’s half the fun, learning by word and touch and guiding hands and then the shiver when you begin to lose control, involuntary sounds, muscle spasms, it would last for hours until you were absolutely and thoroughly exhausted.
And yes.
I wouldn’t even have to climax myself and I would thoroughly enjoy it.
Thoroughly.
Very thoroughly.

How about you close the door, turn off the lights, and thoroughly feel yourself to this lovely… song (ha!) called Nebulous by Fluke.
Pay careful attention to the lyrics now.

Now pardon me why I go away and do something else. The fans of my PC are perhaps the most unsexiest things I can think of right now.

–

My second film for the evening was The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I don’t care if you don’t like it, or how much of it is true. I liked it, a lot.
Before I go to bed I realise that I hallucinate just as much as when I’m off meds, but alcohol brings me closer to where I am when I’m… I don’t know. I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore. I have to work and have a job and earn money so I can buy all this stuff that keeps me sane and if I didn’t, believe me, without it I wouldn’t be here, it’s some of the many many things I can blame on my still being here. Music and film and literature, it’s all so beautiful ah FUCK I CAN’T FUCKING TYPE FUCKING RED LINE MOTHER FUCKER and I have to be one of those normal members of society because the alternatives are truly horrifying. I don’t know what’s worse. I don’t understand. I hallucinate just as much but the meds and some bizarre perversion of brain psychoactive filtering keeps me from them and all the while I’m left in this limbo where no-one knows what the fuck is going on with me so I learn to act like a normal person so they leave me alone.
Alcohol makes me feel like myself, alcohol and loneliness, makes me feel like the me I’m supposed to be, without people having their arms half-way between catching me when I fall and dialling an ambulance. It’s liberating, and hopelessly crushingly sorrowful at the same time. It’s addictive.
Shit.
Tomorrow I have to drive a car to Jack’s and I don’t want to kill anyone on the roads.
And Monday I have to be at work at 7:30 AM to try something which may not even work.
Otherwise I think I’d just keep going.

I don’t care what you think of it, whatever it is it will be woefully insufficient in understanding what I mean when I say that right now I couldn’t care if I died.
I said recently that being well is almost as hard as being ill. It’s much much harder.