13th November: Lacking Inspiration for Titles

I thought of what this hypothetical book might become today! Have you ever read the diaries of Adrian Mole? They were written by an adut, who was pretending to be a teenager. She got riches from it I believe. If adults were to try this today they'd be called paedophiles and locked away for 12 years, but that isn't the point. So this female women person thingy wrote these fake diary entries, compiled them into a book, sent them off to a publisher and was on the road to riches and fame. Although not that much fame as I can't actually remember what she's called.

I'm not even sure it's a she, but it most probably is, as it's about emotions and gushy stuff and the ins and outs of teenage life. Sounds like a topic that only a women could comprehensively write about. They have more experience at pretending to know what they're doing then men do. We just say we can't do it and leave it at that.

Until we get drunk and start believing that Red Bull really gives us wings so we can jump off of tall buildings and float gently down to the ground.

The word to describe what actually happens is splat. Instant jam. Can't see it being particulary popular as a morning spread though.

So anyway, she wrote some fake diary entries and made millions. So imagine what REAL diary entries would pull in! If you can call these diary entries that is. Obviously, I'd have to take the best bits and embellish them a little. Turn musings into full length rants and turn full length rants into fuller lengthier rantier rants. Or something along those lines. I'd also have to cut out the nasty bits that you have to know me to make sense.

It's like... a massive task. And I can't summon up the enthusiasm to do it. Mostly because I'm a cynic.

Yes, someone else made millions from it, but is it really a niche in the market that I can break into? Is anyone actually interested in the truthful teenage ramblings of some over-intelligent insomnia-curing kid? And if you don't know what insomnia is, use google. It's an immensely useful tool that I'm promoting lots and lots. Google that is. Not insomnia. Insomnia is a pain in the arse. Someone else made millions. Life hates me. Therefore I won't make a penny.

Is it worth building a book based on my own life? Is it just a way of attention seeking? Isn't it a little egocentric? Not that I care about that last one mind but I'm aware that other people do and therefore it's worth a mention. I do worry about whether or not I just write this to seek attention though. I mean... what other possible reason do I have for writing it? It originally started as a private blog, which was all very well and gave me somewhere to rant about my love for the person that I fancy without mentioning any names at all, but it mutated and grew.

I mean.. it's got so far away from it's roots that I've started another blog where this one should have continued, but on the condition that no one reads it. I mean... it's got letters addressed to varying people, instructions for what to do should I ever die (all my useabe organs to be donated to charities, remains to be burnt and ashes to be spread to the winds. I don't like the idea of having my ashes in some jar for all eternity) and rantings about everything and everyone. Extremely personal rantings though, not just my bog standard complain at life ones.

Anyway, I'm digressing and I'm going to digress even further just for the hell of it.

Socks. Yes, those nice things that you put on your feet to provide a layer of protection and to keep you warm. Fetching a new pair of them just got even more dangerous.

Charlotte - bless her cotton socks - was told, by her mum, to, "Go and get a pair of socks from upstairs so that we can clean up the leaves on the drive before someone slips and breaks their leg." Now then... would you care to hazard a guess at what she managed to do whilst going upstairs? She slipped. And broke her leg. Clever Charlotte! She'll kill me for mentioning this but it was worth it. She now gets a taxi to her school, as she can't go, on crutches, on the public bus service. She says that the taxi driver scares her, and that she doesn't like it. I laughed at her, in a nice way not a nasty way.

So let this be a lesson to you! If anyone ever gets told to get a pair of socks then tell them that you're unavailable. On pain of being scared by taxi drivers and having a broken leg.

Now I'm going to make sure that my letters to everyone are actually complete, so that when Charlotte kills me tommorrow (through whacking me round the head with her crutch) everyone learns all those things which I never told them for one reason or another. Isn't that just great!

You don't get any money though Charlotte. Nor does Dani. I don't have any spare money lying around to give to you. Sorry, but other people need it more than you do. You can have like... a little souvenir though. How about a toenail clipping? Then if cloning should ever be developed you can bring me back to irritate you all the more!

Only joking. Not like anyone would want a toenail clipping. You can have a hair from my head instead.

There are other sources of DNA, including blood, but you bringing a pint glass along to the mortuary and asking if you could just drain off some of my blood in the possible hope of managing to clone me today would most probably worry the undertakers. The funeral people. The ones that have the nice cheerful job.

Yes, that last sentence was sarcastic. Unless you're morbid. In which case please tell me so that I can back away from you slowly then ensure that a taxi or bus hits you and removes you from the human race for a bit.


Something that really irritates me is people that don't listen. I spent about 3 hours at an awards evening tonight (playing piano for anyone that needed piano playing) and as part of all of the music there was a jazz band. And my wonderful music teacher - who is on youtube playing wii sports. Ask me nicely for the video and I might see if I can't find it for you - decided to tell everyone that we weren't good because he stood at the front and waved his arm arounds to keep us in time but that we were good because we were us.

He told them not to thank him for the music, but to find us and thank us. So what did they do? They went and thanked him.

Stupid people.

On the other hand, anyone that can explain to me why a volcano benefits an active social life on an island that was created by a volcano will earn some gratitude. Not lots, just some. I don't have that much gratitude to hand out. The reason I say this is simple. In the concluding speech (of about 20... as there is at everyone awards evening) we were told by the chairmen of this time when he went to study a volcano. He reminisced about this time when he sat at a bar and realised just how much 'the volcano contributed to the lifestyle of these people. Their homes, their land, their social life.'

I mean.. even I'm not that stupid. What does a volcano give to a social life? A few fireworks and a flaming swimming pool? A good bonfire night, where you get the largest bonfire imaginable at temperatures a little too hot to melt marshmellows at a rate slow enough that they can be caught inbetween two biscuits and eaten as a biscuit and marshmellow sandwhich type thing? Or something else?

Anyone know? Please tell me that you do, as otherwise it'll bother me for hours and days and weeks and months and years and decades and millenia and eons and ice ages and evolutionary stages and universes. I could have added in a few other times in there, but then the list would just be stupidly long and meaningless.

Meaningful meaninglessness though, so don't worry too much.

I'm trying to get a reasonable amount of sleep today, so night night.

I keep on trying, but I also fail.

Can I blame you? I always need someone to blame.

It's all your fault! ARGH!

Anyway. Night night. Sweet dreams. Don't let the bedbugs or your other half bite.

Unless you want them to bite, in which case please step away from the blogger and don't inform me immediately. Most people that read this are underage and underage stuff is bad.

I'm sure there's an entirely innocent meaning to 'bite' as well as the slightly dirtier one, but I just can't think of it.

If there's an actual context in which that sentence made sense that is....