Tuesday. 11th May 2021
To think I used to pump-out 20,000 words per month of highly readable story-format diary..
Course I was unemployed at the time hangin' out in the heart of town all day every day so had plenty of time to edit my shit into well-crafted, beautifully timed paragraphs that were highly relatable to anyone who walks out their front door and encounters the kind of people society is full of.
Still now, Toni's the only one who talks to me from the church - several blame me directly for its closure: apparently my yarping at everyone about police clearances meant they had to end-up implimenting them which in-turn meant most the volunteers at that church failed to pass which inevitably led to the church not having any volunteers to run it - then COVID happened and sianara.
I don't give a fuck: my demanding changes be made that bring a charity for single mothers and their kids into line with the rest of the world so it's safer, is not a failing on my part - if the place had so few clean, honestly helpful people that it couldn't operate without a bunch of sex-offenders hanging around then it should have been closed long before that.
Just telling Babe, I have perfect fingernails again..
I have no idea why I suddenly just stopped chewing them a few weeks ago, but they started growing out and rather than clippers that'd leave spiky bits I went with a crystal nail file that leaves them perfectly smooth and perfect little crescent-moons.
Juxtaposed against how filthy I managed to get living in the valley, this contrast fascinates me more than the nails themselves do.
Sunday, 9th May 2021
Working first four, then five and now six days a week I really don't have the inclination to be spending the small amount of time I have to myself thinking-up amusing shit to write here - though I suppose infrequent updates let a handful of people know I'm still alive and well, I've just realized I can simply shift the entire diary process into messages online to Babe - it's simply a matter of writing it in a different place and having a private, captive audience means I can use names and all in my anecdotes without fear those people will ever be reading any the shit I write about 'em.
Still, I'll drop in here every now and then as proof of life I guess - I've almost allowed the site to just auto-wipe a few times by ignoring the billing emails but I still hmm.. I know once it's gone it's ALL gone forever so I've kept it.
Couldn't have come at a better time though - the job: right after COVID's seen me start becoming so anti-social and bored, I'd stopped discussing things in discussion forums and started trolling people into arguments - purely outta boredom - though actually, I haven't stopped trolling: you would not believe there are grown men out there that will revert to fucking children over what are mere hobbies that interest them - they get so butthurt so quickly it astonishes me that anyone can take anything any normal person does in their spare time, seriously.
Naturally, with the job comes the slowly stewing resentments towards co-workers I dislike for any of a multitude of reasons: from the maintainance idiots who walk around like kids with a tool in their hand doing fuckin' nothing of any use to anybody all day long to the point one woman there could replace *all* of them and *still* do a better job, to that bitch just too dumb to live who makes the weird slurping sounds when she talks - I *think* she's trying to be cute? It's so fuckin' retarded.
It's not like I actually hate anyone and I do genuinely like most of them.
Besides, I'm getting very good at feigning an affabile facade they all take for warmth.
Thursday, 6th May 2021
Babe came back.
So, so many new things to add if I were to bring this shit up to speed, I cannot even be fucked though iunno - maybe I could just go back to updating the diary: I did not want to and still see it as unecessary: interactions with others are already known by them and myself else they'd not be interactions, would they.
So why write endlessly about everything when each person already was there for whatever it might've been and outside of that I've only got myself in shit writing all my inner thoughts here for everyone to read.
So fuck it.
Pity: with a new job in hospitality where my personality is an asset, there's so many funny little enchanges and interactions daily, but writing them with my specific "take" on the moment has only ever got me in shit, so newp.
I've also got a supervisor who's cute, tiny and there's something about cute, tiny, bossy women that makes them very easy to work with: practically yelling at me just two weekends ago when shit was getting stressy, I hated her for the rest of that day, then brought her fresh bananas the next morning which she actually ate.
Course she did: they were the red-tipped ones, fresh picked twenty minutes beforehand and the ripest, nicest looking bananas in the store.
Since then, I've made it standard daily routine to stop at Coles or Woolies to buy a breakfast of fruit or something else healthy: taking some for myself and leaving some on her desk for her.
And - unlike the previous jobs supervisors who you might see every two months or so when they drop in for half an hour to write notes about shit you've missed - this chick is there all day, every day and interactive enough so it got to the point I had to tell her "Stop - don't come up yet you know you are only gunna distract me - come back in half an hour", which she did and has continued doing.
The work itself is brutal enough to make all that easy-mode school cleaning I'd done beforehand look like shit any lazy piece of shit could sleepwalk their way through - I sure did - but after what, almost two months now I've finally started settling into doing twice the work I ever did with Broadspectrum and now barely sweat at all throughout the day.
Some kind of sloppy pre-mixed fresh-boneless-chicken-drumsticks in lemon and whatever marinade for dinner: I'm too busy to give a single fuck about preparing any food anymore and simple eat fruit stuffed in bread when I'm out - saving the cooked shit for nights.
Oh right: Garlic - Lemon and Garlic chicken.
Dunno how the fuck I'll get through 500g of chicken leg fillets but I will - they'll food-coma me to sleep after my shower.
Wednesday, 7th April 2021
Come back Babe.
Tell me I'm a fuckwitt, yell at me all you like, just come back and do it: you really do *flood* the place with light and there's a shitty, empty dark hole caused by your absence that *I* cannot dismiss because it's constantly there.
Everything's returned to normal, calm as cows we are but it's flat without you and your frivilousness, which I'm pretty sure isn't really a word but whatever.
The dynamic without you is not the same.
Not the same at all.
Like Coke without bubbles.
What the fuck.
Monday, 29th March 2021
First of these creative expressions will be a specific custard based on the favourite commercial juice of this lovely creature, whose absolute favourite is one specific custard with floral notes and a hint of tobacco.
Commercial manufacturers spend a LOT of money developing or purchasing recipes people will love, then go out of their way to guard those recipes and - because there's so many combinations of concentrates plus the varying amounts that need to be in the right proportions to one another to make them taste a specific way - creating an accurate copy is near impossible, for anyone.
Near impossible, but not absolutely and there's plenty of simple flavour profiles can be cloned easily, but these juices are usually created using flavourings that're distinctive enough for vapers to identify them: the more complex a commercial juice is, the less likely anyone will manage to create a clone that matches the original.
Like trying to figure-out the Colonel's '11 secret herbs & spices' that make KFC what it is, using nothing more than your taste-buds - even if you knew which seasoning were used, you'd almost assuredly never be able to determine what ratio of each is needed to recreate that exact taste.
Her favourite is complicated.
So I will create her a new ultimate favourite from scratch, and once I've got it perfect, give her the recipe so she can make it herself from then on out..par
Think of it this way: if I were to paint her something - knowing what her general taste preference for visual art is - I would first need to go out and buy the correct colours of paint, then mix them, then apply them into a piece she'd love to hang in her house.
Sunday, 28th March 2021
Mixing is just like any other creative outlet, with practical knowledge obtainied by doing - you judge what's GOOD or BAD and the more you do, the greater your understanding of the dymanics becomes; the greater that understanding, the more you can express yourself within the confines of that medium.
It's just that simple.
The specific medium here is concentrated flavourings combined in a single liquid and I'm going to start exploring this creative process the same way any painter or photographer would write about theirs.
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