A month since I last posted. Shocking. I didn't get the job, but the feedback was good; it was a close thing between me and the person that got it as they had a bit more experience in the higher education sector.

Things I have done in the last month:

- Hot Chip @ Cardiff Uni (can't remember most of their set / calls to Yani etc)
- Giorgia's 30th (hammered / Yani / bed at 7.30am)
- Website launch @ Clwb (success, although comedy and live music don't mix)
- Motorhead & Saxon @ Cardiff Uni (alone, but bumped into Mikey Bell & Paul)
- Swn Festival (Future of the Left / Evils / Tubelord / Right Hand Left Hand)
- Sub 29 Launch (Sicknote)
- Howard Marks @ Sub 29 (review to follow)
- Interviewed Jonathan Pryce for cardiff Living mag (£150!)
- Stayed off the Butros for three weeks to date
- Drunk more as a result
- Crept more into the red
- Not written much
- Got fatter

The Soundtrack film & music festival starts tonight with a Danny Boyle masterclass in Cineworld followed by his film, Slumdog Millionnaire. I'm also going to see I Know You Know on Saturday and Jonathan Pryce Q&A & film. Tomorrow is also the Buzz Americana fancy dress party in Pica Pica. I'm going as Travis Bickle. Real guns would be good.

No News

No news on the job - which means I haven't got it. Instead, I'll try pasting a YouTube video here.

Interview

Just a quickie - it's 7.43am and I have an interview at 9 at the University of Glamorgan for the position of Web Content Production Officer (£25k). The interview is in two parts: a work based exercise then a face to face at 12. I wish myself luck...

Insufficient Funds

For the first time in ages yesterday I tried to draw money out to be told that I didn't have any in there. I'm overdrawn by £1,600. Also, last week my credit card minimum payment direct debit was refused, and the Indian woman that rang to tell me also informed me that I'd gone over the agreed limit and needed to pay that amount back immediately. I've had to borrow £200 off the bread knife to sort it out. I don't mind telling you that I shed a few tears and considered disappearing. I have no choice but to go back to doing wake-ins. Not ideal, but as they're on the weekend it means I'll be earning money instead of pissing it up the wall.

Made a chicken and spinach curry last night and my folks came over. I drank way too much:

7 330ml bottles Tiger Beer
1 large glass red wine
1 tumbler Pimms (neat)
6 330ml bottles Kronenbourg (I sneaked over the shop to get these when other booze ran out)

Needless to say I was shitfaced and can't remember going to bed. Whether this level of drinking constitutes alcoholism I don't know, but it certainly makes me a pisshead. I wonder if I'll ever stop drinking. I tell myself I will, but I can't just have one beer, it has to be a bucket load. Same with the Butros, I can't go for a night out without it. Saying that, I survived this weekend without... but then I didn't go out.

Anyway, it's a new day and there are things need doing; money needs earning and words need writing. Actually, first things first. Kettle needs boiling.

Rain And Edginess

It's pissing down, and has been all day. It reflects my current frame of mind fairly well. I had a better night's sleep but woke up with a racing heart regarding the amount of debt and extent to which we live beyond our means. Even if I started a £50k job tomorrow, I'd still be struggling for the foreseeable future. That's probably not strictly true, but I'm going to need to start doing wake-ins again if I stand a chance of clawing back into the black.

My tenant moves out of my flat tomorrow, and the new guy moves in on the 7th. I'll be sorry to see him go, as he paid on time and kept the place tip top. I get the feeling the new guy - who fruitlessly requested new carpets and a washer drier upon paying his bond - will be on the phone more.

Picked ma and pa up from the airport last night. Their flight from Dalaman arrived the same time as another. Some of the troglodytes coming through arrivals at Cardiff would make Estonian peasants feel classy. The lads have all got blond highlights / tips / patches and fucking meaningless rectangular celtic blobs that are excuses for tattoos on their forearms, and everyone wears those three-quarter length light grey shiny sports trousers with white patent trainers. Mum and Dad eventually came through in summer clothing, only to be faced with Welsh winter weather from the doors to the car. I got back just after midnight and was glad I'd changed the bedding yesterday and put the winter duvet in the cover.

Tonight I'm off to see the compere for the launch at a comedy night in Buffalo. I could do without it but only plan to stay an hour or so.

Another Wasted Sunday

By rights I should be just arriving in Dundee sans footwear with a Darby full of Swiss chocolate (see Saturday's post), because once again a Saturday night's socialising became an expensive blizzard (£100 approx). We were home by 2am but I was wired until 5, when half a bottle of wine and a tumbler of neat Pimms finally put me the right side of consciousness. Sunday - once again - was a write-off, save for a trip to Spar via the pub, and a diet of pizza, Pepsi and TV in bed. I had the worst nights' sleep in years last night, I kept thinking someone was breaking in the house during semi-consciousness and bouts of sleep paralysis, and when I did sleep I dreamt of zombie carnage and gruesome, violent attacks. I can feel wrongness coursing through my veins like narcotic slugde; a bile of fat, salt, sugar and booze. My attempts at a 24hr detox involving consuming no more than a pint of water every hour fell down at 10.45am when I finished off the pizza.

I've come to accept the fact that I can no longer socialise in a drinking environment without involving hchello mate, but that doesn't make it all right. When the people you're with are of the some ilk, willpower plays second fiddle to the effects of ones first few beers. But, today is a new day, and what can I do accept regret my actions once again and promise myself that things will change?

I pick my folks up from the airport at 11pm tonight, than tomorrow I'm going to a comedy night to sound out a compere for the website launch, so it's not even like I have an early night to look forward to. But I did tidy the bedroom and change our bedding earlier, so at least the room no longer gives Tracy Emin's exhibit a run for its money.

Mods (A Haiku Poem)

From the South Lanes come
An army of parka coats;
Brighton beach at dawn.