Apparently I’m stressed. I was a little bit shocked when I was informed that my recent behaviour was over and above that of someone who was just tired. As I pondered this I realised I was grinding my teeth, ‘good lord,’ I asserted, ‘I’m like a coiled fucking spring.’
This isn’t the same sort of stress I used to encounter when living in Tooting over a gaping fanny flap, or indeed the whole anxiety-based pisser of physically moving, this is something much deeper and less tangible as I’ve not been properly acknowledge it.
Allow me if you will. I’ve occasionally mentioned the crap with my buyer’s solicitors most likely in the form of vitriol-fuelled rants. Well, if you consider that absolutely nothing has changed with regard to my current predicament, it may go some way to explaining how this fucking horror-show has been suppressed within, occasionally rearing its filthy head over the parapet. Admittedly, I’m not the most tolerant of people but lately I’ve been on a hair-trigger. My filter has been removed. The slightest, merest inconvenience results in an instant fit.
It’s perfectly simple, I should’ve exchanged weeks ago. Because I’ve not even got to this stage of completing on the sale of my ex-gaff I’m still paying my mortgage and council tax, in addition to my rent and Council tax in Hackney. In short, it’s costing me a fortune and the meagre profit I’m supposed to be making on that cunt-hole in Tooting is being eaten by increasing debt. To put it bluntly it’s doing my fucking head in.
Last night IC and I went to The Coliseum in London to see an opera, The Grand Macabre. To be honest IC wanted to go, I wasn’t that keen and due to my job I was able to get us a pair of complimentary tickets. Well fuck me sideways, I wasn’t actually expecting to enjoy it but it’s bloody marvellous. It’s crude, laugh-out-loud funny, visually stunning and I enjoyed every bit of it, despite being sat next to a hippo who spilled into my seat (that wasn’t IC by the way, she’s as fit as fuck.)
We got home quite late whereupon I was confronted by a bunch of redirected mail informing me that they now had my change of address, which they sent to my old one. Is it just me?
I’ve a packed weekend ahead, but I have to say all is being marred by the current problems described herein. And I’ve got a spot on my arse.
NO. ARTIST SONG TITLE LAST WEEK WEEKS ON
30 All Time Low Weightless NE 1
29 The Ian Carey Project Get Shaky 21 8
28 Steel Panther Community Property NE 1
27 Mumford And Sons Little Lion Man NE 1
26 The Big Pink Dominos 22 3
25 Bat For Lashes Sleep Alone NE 1
24 Hockey Song Away 30 2
23 The Mars Volta Cotopaxi 15 11
22 You Me At Six Kiss And Tell 28 2
21 Deadmau5 Ft Rob Swire Ghosts N’ Stuff NE 1
20 Kasabian Where Did All The Love Go? 13 9
19 The Used Blood On My Hands 19 5
18 Five Finger Death Punch Hard To See NE 1
17 The Prodigy Take Me To The Hospital 16 8
16 The Gossip Love Long Distance 18 4
15 The Cribs Cheat On Me 14 6
14 Arctic Monkeys Crying Lightning 12 10
13 Funeral For A Friend Wrench 17 3
12 Lostprophets It’s Not The End Of The World… 20 2
11 Gallows I Dread The Night 10 5
10 Muse Uprising 7 7
9 Placebo The Never-Ending Why 6 7
8 Pearl Jam The Fixer 8 6
7 The Temper Trap Sweet Disposition 9 6
6 Paramore Ignorance 5 5
5 Ian Brown Stellify 3 4
4 The xx Crystallized 4 4
3 Biffy Clyro That Golden Rule 1 9
2 Editors Papillon 11 2
1 Skunk Anansie Because Of You 2 5
