Friday 23rd May 2008

I’ve been re-reading my old journals and came across the entry replicated below I have decided to share because it amuses me to do so after some light editing my writing worst eight years ago than it is now.

Anyways onwards:

Journal:

I had a good night’s sleep for a change but still got up early at about 06:00 I have another lazy day away from the dull toil of Glenair.

Commentary:

I still don’t have a good night’s sleep, not every night, and I still get up early, earlier than 06:00 most mornings. I don’t work at Glenair anymore and though I find factory work dull toil it wasn’t a bad job, I wasn’t too good for the wage and I got paid more than enough for the effort I put in. I guess the worst thing about the job, any job, is the people you work with and I’ll admit it’s my fault I didn’t get along with Glenair employees because I’m very judgemental and a bit of a nob. I have nothing to do with any of my ex work colleagues but then again I have nothing to do outside of work with my present work colleagues and even at work I can spend most of my time with Service Users, playing football or pool, without a work colleague in sight. I think because I prefer my own company and I’m not a racist, a bigot or patriotic I fail to connect with most British people, especially the English, my failure to connect eventually leads to conflict and sometimes confrontation and being a wimp and a coward I find the aggressive violent behaviour people display completely abhorrent. You don’t have to like people different to you but you don’t have to cave their heads in to express that dislike.

Journal:

I had a banana and Satsuma for breakfast and then I browsed the Internet at about 07:30 I started an exercise routine, chin ups, press ups, chest exercises and ended with abdominal. I feel good real good.

I am meeting Gez at 12:00 at the bus station for a short journey into Nottingham weather isn’t very promising so it looks like I’ll have to wear a jacket. We should get into Nottingham sometime after 13:00, meet Dave grab tickets for the 14:00 showing of Indy, nip to a bar, Slug and Lettuce perhaps? Have a lager before the movie.

Commentary:

Gez and Dave are my two best buddies. They’re good guys. Nice guys. Wise guys. The 2008 bus station is no more it’s now a car park and my hometown is serviced by a bus station that is probably the smartest interior and exterior building in the entire town of Mansfield in Nottinghamshire.

Journal:

Going to get some tidying up done now though, sheeeet I HATE housework.

11:30 I set out for the bus station to meet Gezza however he texts me with news about his imminent lateness due to a lack of reliable buses. It’s okay. I go and do the lottery, get some money and some food and stalk Mansfield, WHSmith and then HMV, Gez texts me to let me know he will be five minutes he’s decided to get his father to give him a lift so I head for the bus station, At the bus station I eat my food purchased from Greggs (a sandwich type place) the bus arrives, Gez arrives. Our conversations involve talk about football, some general life related stuff and a little movie talk.

Commentary:

Gez always seemed to be late and it’s a real deal thing in 2016 as well as 2008 that public transport isn’t at all reliable. Nothing much as changed with me, I still look the same as I did eight years ago, I still wear the same type of clothes, jeans and a Superman tee, some of my Converse All Stars are over eight years old as are some of my tee’s. I still hit WHSmith and HMV once a week, usually Monday for HMV, it’s when the latest movies and TV boxsets are released and I usually buy movies that were once labeled in the UK video nasties. For example this week Zombie Flesh Eaters 2 was my must buy on blu-ray. WHSmith I hit on Sunday mornings for the latest issue of the British comic 2000AD and something crap to eat and drink, Lucozade and chocolate or ice cream.

Journal:

We meet Dave at Cineworld purchase our tickets for the 14:00 showing of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Six quid for a ticket, wowzers.

Commentary:

Six quid for a cinema ticket seemed excessive back in 2008, these days it can cost eight quid and more than fifteen for IMAX. For years I only attended Cineworld in Nottingham but these days, because it’s easier, I usually watch movies at home I’m really into my own company, I’m one of those strange people who is happy just being alone, I don’t feel desperate or sad instead I feel happy and I like the quiet of being alone, the calm, the lack of conversation. I don’t know about you but I find conversation to be empty, waste of a bunch of words, air. I figure I’d like people a lot more if they could just learn to shut the fuck up.

Journal:

We decamp in the Slug and Lettuce, I get the drinks in, I have a pint of Amstel so does Gez, Dave as a Fosters, round came to about six pounds and eighty pence.

Our conversations involve the television shows Lost, Heroes, Battlestar Galactica, Dr Who, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Commando, My Name Is Earl (I’m excluded from the conversation about My Name Is Earl as I don’t watch the series) quick mention about books and comic books, some lifestyle speak.

Cinema, thirty minutes of adverts and trailers, yawn, but then my excitement builds as the movie starts.

Indiana-Jones-And-The-Kingdom-Of-The-Crystal-Skull-DVD-L097363418641

Hmm, spider sense starts tingling, this movie is going to be effing shit.

Some sort of CGI gopher in the desert, WHATTHEFUCK?

Right it’s the Fifties, hot rods and racing. Damn Commies are invading Area 51. Reds under the bed. Wahey, it’s Indy, with a bumbling sidekick? Hmm, psychic Russians with swords, hmm?

Magnetic steel box? Using gunpowder to find it. Roswell. Alien bodies. HUH?

The double cross, elderly man outwits and out fights youthful Russian commandoes GO INDY GO!

Atomic test. Indy survives by locking himself inside a fridge. An effing fridge. WHATTHEFUCK?

More CGI gophers, why I oughtta…!

Indy sacked, suspected of being a Commie, publicity shots of Sean Connery from The Last Crusade on Indy’s desk, oh dear.

Marlon Brando turns up, oh wait no, it’s just Shia LaBeouf.

Now we get into it, pulp style exposition, tussle with some Commie bastards, Indy’s adventure begins.

Yawn, and it’s dull, tiresome, what’s all this? It’s a crap story that’s what it is. Jeez.

An. Alien. Crystal. Skull. WHATTHEFUCK?

Captured by the Commies, I see a pattern developing. Escape, hurrah. Quicksand. Snake. Capture. Yawn!

Oh great an action set piece. Oh crap it’s crap. Tarzan? WHATTHEFUCK?

Not killer ants? Surely not? They can climb up each other to pursue their prey, how terribly clever, someone’s been watching the Discovery channel methinks. Unable to contain self, cinema etiquette is unfortunately disregarded as I shout ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?’

Our heroes escape, again, landing on a bendy tree, wow, amazing, Marion grins, A LOT, is she on drugs?

Wow, amazing, bendy tree flips up killing most of those damn Commies. Not one waterfall not two waterfalls but three.

How exciting, my head in my hands, shaking with disbelieve. I can’t believe this movie keeps getting worse. Fucking Hell aliens, well inter-dimensional beings, flying saucers, WHATTHEFUCK? I can’t take anymore I’m off for a toilet break.

Mark and Dave also HATE the movie, we go to the Stage Door for beers to drown our sorrows. And we bitch. And bitch. And bitch about a shit movie.

Walkabout, more beers. Food. Wetherspoons, more beers. Squares, shit. Hog’s Head, bus, home, bed.

Commentary:

What I found most amusing about this 2008 journal entry is the fact I still go into Nottingham for beers with Gez and Dave but we don’t frequent any of the same pubs anymore. It’s weird looking back in time and realising that though a lot changes more seems to remain the same.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is the most disappointing movie I have ever seen. I still can’t believe that it exists, it’s the only movie I’ve walked out of before the end, though I did wish to walk out of Minority Report fifteen minutes in but was persuaded to stay to the very end, leaving Minority Report I exclaimed, ‘I’m NEVER watching a Spielberg movie at the cinema EVER again’, I should have followed my own sensible advice.

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