Maybe the last

My 56th birthday. I get the feeling that, one way or another, I might not see another. I don't know if I even want to. My life is so full of shit, the incentive is sorely lacking. Although, having said that, it has been a pretty good day, my brother and sister-in-law came up to town, and we had lunch, and, even better, K shared most of my day, too (although she's gone out to see a friend of hers who's back at home from uni for the bank holiday weekend this evening).
Last birthday or not, it is definitely the last day of my 'spring break', so it's up at 'stupid o'clock' in the morning to go back to work. My cup runneth over.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Null

I've been out and about today, but the sense of aimlessness has been very strong. I couldn't decide where to go, how to get there, or what my final destination should be. After all sorts of vacillation, I've ended up in the 'far-flung' Wetherspoons which has settled into 'number two' position over the weeks since the demise of my old local. The day has been a microcosm of my life in general, really, completely lacking in a sense of direction, or, indeed, any point at all. All that seems to be left is a dark drip of unrequitable desire, filling up the dam of my self-control almost to breaking point. I'm on the 'right' side of the line at the moment. If I said I could guarantee staying there, though, I'd be lying.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Life, death and reincarnation

Life continues to bump along the bottom, despite my still being off work. The weather today flattered to deceive - it looked brightly summery this morning, but it was decidedly chilly when I ventured out, and went downhill from there, to the extent that it was bloody snowing at lunchtime, albeit briefly, when I was at Borough Market. It's supposed to be the end of April, FFS! It wasn't all gloom, though, because the cutie of the day was on hand, too - in contrast to the slightly androgynously beautiful boy on Saturday, today's darling, touristy, probably Scandinavian, was all boy, same sort of age, athletic looking, perfect proportion, short, straight blond hair, attractive but unmistakably masculine features. And, as ever, irresistible and inaccessible in equal measure.
And so to the pub, just for a change. Daniel had been conspicuous by his absence at the weekend, but he's working tonight, served me last time I was at the bar - and looked straight through me. Not that I've ever seriously imagined I could be with him, but I have daydreamed, I have to admit. I think it's fair to say that any last sliver of hope on that front has now died. I don't believe in life after death, and thus, self-evidently, don't believe in reincarnation, either, but if such a phenomenon did exist, I know absolutely what I'd want to come back as. A loved boy, so I could at least save one boylover from the nightmare that our orientation usually entails.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

More quality time

A good few hours spent with K today, a bit of meandering punctuated by lunch at my one-time 'London local', where my girl and I last had a meal together on Christmas Day 2013. To be honest, I've only been in the place myself a handful of times since then, given that our festive dinner took place just a few weeks before I moved to the flat. An odd thought struck me as I was climbing the stairs to the first floor toilet - since I last made that short trip in person, my 'avatar' had done so in my story Unwrapped (still available over at Nephelokokkygia ;)). Life imitating art, if referring to my electronic scribblings as 'art' isn't impossibly pretentious!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Somewhere in between

'You see, I'm somewhere in between'. From Falling To Pieces by Faith No More. And kind of how today has been. It hasn't exactly been feast to famine, but the day has been very much less boy-sodden than yesterday. I did see one almost infeasibly cute and pretty little guy in a very posh part of town, but he was only about 6, far too young, of course, for anything other than cooing over, while the cutie who I saw out of the corner of my eye in the pub, who I thought might have been about to cheer up my day, turned out to be a girl. So I've spent quite a chunk of the day teetering on the edge of a descent into a miasma of borderline depression, given the hangover from yesterday's encounter with that wonderful boy, but, ultimately, I've ended up on a reasonably even keel. Life could be better, but it could undoubtedly be worse, as well.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Smitten

Today has been a 'boy day' on steroids. I must have seen at least 20 serious cuties on my travels, and it hasn't stopped yet - there are two in my 'not local but now regular' Wetherspoons, where I've recently arrived. The whole delightful company, though, pale into insignificance against the hour I spent on a bus heading towards Heathrow in the early afternoon. For pretty much the whole journey, I was sitting about three paces away from one of the most beautiful boys I've ever seen. 11, give or take, shaggy, wavy fair hair to his collar, blue eyes, lovely face. But there was more than simply the superficial to him. I was close enough not to have been able to avoid hearing the conversation he was having with his dad, and it was obvious that not only was he more than bright, but that he also had several interests in common with me - and a hint or two of boyish 'naughtiness', in 'that' way, too. In short, as close as I could ever reasonably expect to my perfect boy. I was utterly smitten, almost to the point of tears when he got off the bus at Harlington Corner. Because, of course, there's no chance, in any remotely conceivable circumstances, that I'll ever see him again, still less be able to count him as a friend. To borrow two thirds of a Nabokov quote, 'adoration, sorrows'.

Love & best wishes to all

Sammy B

Plans on hold, again

I'm sure it is just coincidence, but, yet again, a proposed get together with my brother and sister-in-law has fallen through, this time because one of their dogs has had to be put down. It may be able to be rescheduled for next Saturday, although that doesn't suit me nearly so well given that I have to go back to work on the Sunday morning. It would be churlish of me to complain in the circumstances, of course, and I'm sure I'll find something to do with myself over the next couple of days. Frustrating, nonetheless.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Not working

I've spent the last little while trying to 'fictionalise' a dilemma I've found myself facing over the past couple of days, but it frankly isn't working. On the other hand, I can't write about it openly here, because of the way the issue has arisen. All I can do, I guess, is to apply a precautionary principle, the 'first do no harm' thing, even if that adds still more distance between me and any prospect of 'the pursuit of happiness'. As I've said before, life's shit, except when it's really shit.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Things that catch your attention

Like the boy on the bus on my way once more to the Wetherspoons K and I visited on Monday, so heart-rendingly reminiscent of my cousin at the same sort of 13-ish stage of his life. And the blog post quoting a US religiofascist as suggesting there is no such thing as adolescence, that the dividing line between child and adult is an individual's thirteenth birthday (a position which, with tongue planted firmly in cheek, I would enthusiastically endorse, given its implications for the age of consent!). Impossible to avoid the hagiographic media coverage of the Queen's ninetieth birthday, and equally impossible for me to avoid feelings of bitterness that my dad, born just four weeks later than the monarch, has been dead for more than thirty years, testimony, if any were needed, of how much better looked after royalty are than coal miners.
The attention-grabbing moment that began this train of thought, though, was something totally different. I was, as part of my day's meanderings, over in East London, on a bus route I'd never used before. As the bus crossed a bridge over part of the former Royal Docks complex, I noticed that we were just about to pass, at ninety degrees and a distance of no more than a couple of hundred yards, the 'takeoff' end of the runway at London City Airport. And an aircraft was, indeed, just at the point of taking off, obviously at its full departure speed, 150 mph, or whatever. But it was, from my perspective, on the top deck of the bus at the highest point of the bridge, about twenty feet below me at that moment! Needless to say, as soon as the plane got into the air it climbed rapidly and was never in the slightest danger of coming anywhere near the bus, but it was certainly the sort of experience that lets you know how good your nerves are!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Not just us

One of the disincentives to join one of our rare work 'socials' is that the majority of the participants usually end up talking about work, presumably on the basis that they've got nothing else in common. Wetherspoons staff seem to be no different. A couple of off duty ex-my old local staff are in the pub where Daniel works - he's here, cute as ever - and they're deep in conversation about work, too. Good to know that it's not just staff in our industry that indulge in 'busman's holidays'!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Knee deep in myself

A line from Some Candy Talking by the Jesus and Mary Chain, and, as I said to K when we went to see the band last month, one of the most brilliant lines ever written, as far as I'm concerned. And just the way I feel about myself at the moment. I knew, if I ever found my way to one particular dark corner of cyberspace, I'd have no resistance at all to its contents. And, having (genuinely) accidentally tripped over that very place, being proved right is the worst thing in the world, in that specifically Orwellian, Room 101, way.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Working my way towards zero

Since my marriage broke up, I've known that, sooner or later, I would end up on my own, even, to some extent, hastening the process by making no effort to find a new relationship (especially given that what I really want isn't available anyway) and by 'stepping back' from what friends and family I do have, not going out of my way to initiate contact with them. The exception, of course, has been my daughter. K has been by far the most important person in my life since well before the divorce, all the more so since I accidentally came out to her when she was 12. I have genuinely tried not to put any undue pressure on her, but it's been inevitable, given her central position in my world, that she's had to listen to more of my tales of woe than someone of her age should. And she's had enough of it, I strongly suspect. Her objections, voiced last night while we were having a meal in one of the 'alternative' Wetherspoons I've been using since the demise of my local were, typically for her, couched in a nice, thoughtful way, but were unmistakable nonetheless. She'll be off to uni in five months, give or take, and I'm going to redouble my efforts not to unload on her in the meantime. Once she's gone, she'll be out of the firing line. And I'll have to do what I should've been doing all along - coping with the consequences of forty-odd years of terrible decisions on my own.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Finally got there

To my first substantial break from work of the year, that is - my late shift today was my last for the month, I don't have to go to work again until May 1. The last time I had anything approaching such an amount of time off was last December, and to say I've been looking forward to this holiday is a very considerable understatement. I doubt I'll do anything very original - it's possible, maybe even likely, that I won't leave Greater London - but the sense of being able to get off of the treadmill for nearly a fortnight is none the less welcome for that. And I might even get some quality time with K - she doesn't start back at school until Tuesday, and we've provisionally planned to go out and about tomorrow. There are precious few good things in my life, but my girl and her company is the proverbial exception that proves the rule.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Just for a fleeting moment

I thought something very unlikely had happened when I arrived at what I guess I should call my new local, even if it isn't geographically such. Something that would've been so welcome. A youngish woman was heading towards the bar, and, at first glance, I thought it was someone I'd seen a number of times at my former, lamented, local, namely Cammy's aunt. A second, slightly more thorough appraisal, though, quickly and deflatingly proved that I was mistaken - there was a vague resemblance, but no more. I guess I'm already resigned to the fact that I'll never see my 'little friend' again, but that doesn't mean I have to like the situation. Seven weeks ago today that he gave me that last little wave. It seems so long ago and far away.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Other people's rules

The ones I'm sick to the back teeth of living my life by. Don't eat this, don't drink that. Don't think this, don't say that. And don't ever, ever dream, even for a moment, of being yourself, of hoping for fulfillment. I've known for a very long time that I have the sort of personality that can take a lot of punishment, but is ultimately much more likely to break rather than bending. I get the feeling the point of fracture is much closer than it was even a few weeks ago.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Little change

Well, back in circulation after my night shift week, and the world, and my interactions with it, continue unabated. The weather's still miserable, and the boys are still unnervingly gorgeous. Most schools returned today after the Easter break, but some evidently haven't, because there were still a fair number of cuties in civvies on my travels. Most notable were a little guy, maybe a year younger than Cammy, but full of the same 'boy bounce', and with the most lovely of dimply smiles, and, half an hour or so ago, en route here (the pub where Daniel works), an utterly dreamy fair-haired 12/13 in a hoodie. I'd quite happily have given up the rest of my life for an hour in his arms, but, of course, the chances of my getting to make that decision were always going to be zero, and he's now become yet another 'ghost'. I've spent quite a lot of the last week steeped in (mostly) fictional/virtual boys, and if you look at my situation through that imaginary lens, you can almost believe that 'one day my prince will come'. The reality, needless to say, consists of just one word. Never.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Beginner's luck

Yesterday, after a couple of previous abortive attempts, K finally managed to set up an online National Lottery account. And promptly netted herself a £200 prize on one of their 'instant win' games! She's bought a ticket for tonight's main lottery draw, too. Let's hope her lucky streak continues!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The persistence of memory

With apologies to Dalí.
I've found, in recent days, an online 'comic' of which I'd only seen 'samples' before. From the 'sample era' outset, one character has really got under my skin. A boy, of course, but more than that, a boy who reminds me so much of a real-life counterpart. DBJ. I can't pretend I think about my perfect boy every day - apart from the fact that I haven't seen him for five and a half years, and that he never was, and never could have been, 'my' boy, he'll be 19 now, and, while I'm sure he'll still be 'good-looking', he'd be well past my 'window of attraction' - but that doesn't mean I've forgotten him. Or that I ever will. Forever frozen in pubescence by the ineffable process we call 'memory'. And in my heart, always.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

So, no 'Get out of London free' card

Not yet, anyway. The only university K hadn't heard back from was the Cornish one, but they e-mailed her yesterday with a 'no' - she hasn't been offered a place there. She was more annoyed than disappointed, while I was so preoccupied with other stuff - yesterday was a pretty thorough headfuck for me, for reasons that I'm not going to discuss, even in a pseudonymous environment - that the sense of loss of opportunity that I might have felt wasn't really there. So it's going to be either the South Coast or the nearest to London option for K, and, probably, three more years, at least, of the hamster wheel for me. Great.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tantalus for the 21st century

A line I used I'm one of my earliest posts at Nephelokokkygia, but also a pretty good description of my status today. 'Just out of reach' has characterised the day, boys all over the place, but none for me. There's a cutie in my 'not local' now, who I shared a little smile with at one point earlier, but who has been more interested, subsequently, in flitting, with his sister, in and out of the beer garden here, maybe 11, not supercute but certainly easy on the eye, but he pales into insignificance against the son of one of my colleagues, who came into work with his dad this morning. I've seen him once before, about a year ago, and while he struck me as cuter last time around - he's 14-ish now, starting to move from pubescence to early adolescence - the fact of his being around for hours left me marinaded in unrequitable desire by the time I escaped from my workplace at lunchtime. When they're at a distance, just eye candy, it's bad enough, but the closer they get, the more heart-rending it becomes.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Stress?

I've noticed an unusual tendency in myself over the past couple of days - I seem to have developed an irresistible urge to grit my teeth, to the extent that it's making my jaws ache. The stresses and frustrations of my life, as documented at great length herein, are what they are, and haven't changed in any material way, so why I should suddenly have begun to express my tension in such a way is a complete mystery. Mind over matter, without a doubt.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

I can't remember

I've been trying for an hour or more to work out when my last complete day off, before today, was. I had a 'paper' day off last week, when I finished nights on Tuesday morning and was then back on earlies exactly 24 hours later, but, as far as I can recall without the kitchen calendar in front of me (the only place my shifts are recorded, for K's benefit, so she knows what I'm up to), my last day like today, when I won't be in work for any part of the day, was three and a half weeks ago. And I'm in the bottom half of the 'league table' for amount of overtime worked at our place. It's madness, quite frankly, the 'hamster wheel' ruling everything. Still, two weeks on Monday, I'll begin a run of 13 days off, my first annual leave of the year. To say the break will be welcome is the understatement of the day.

1920 edit: Just had a recount, my last complete day off was actually three weeks ago today, when K and I went to see The Jesus and Mary Chain. The few days' discrepancy doesn't mitigate the 'living to work' rather than 'working to live' impression, though.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B