I went along to the pub to meet the boss of the company I’d applied to (as mentioned last post), and I thought the interview went pretty well.  He was particularly interested in my creative writing skills, something that got me onto the 30 strong short list (finally, a degree comes in useful!).  On Friday I went back to meet the director of the American side of things, and got offered the job!  After more than two years applying for proper jobs, I finally have one.  My relief is actually palpable, it really does feel quite amazing.

The company promotes research on nutrition, medicine, and other things the main stream  media aren’t too interested in.  They also sell tie in products, such as nutritional supplements, DVD’s, books etc. To start off with the job involves being a Operations Coordinator, basically ensuring all the sales/ customer service runs smoothly.  Once I’m up to date with that, the bossman is thinking of bringing me into the publishing side of the business, researching and actually writing books for them.  It’s amazing, I’ll actually be putting my degrees and love of writing to use.  And I’ll be getting paid for it!

Other than that, I’ve also been up to Harps for another extremely enjoyable weekend.  A few of us watched the boxing match dubbed ‘David and Goliath’.  While we were hoping to watch a few rounds of carnage, what we got instead was 12 rounds of the big Russian bring made to look like the lumbering beast he was by the crafty little Brit.  New British world heavyweight champion.  Rock on.  Also on the cards for that night was a good amount of beer, mojitos, Jagerbombs, and insanely dangerous close proximity fireworks.  The night ended at around 8am at the 2nd house party, and boy did I feel it the next day.  Which was spent seeing the new(ish) lady in my life, who I get on ridiculously well with.  Bonus.

All in all, life has begun the new year in the way I hope it continues, on the up.  Might just keep my fingers crossed to be on the safe side though.

Peaces.

It’s been a pretty lame year for me.  I’ve gone from a full time rubbish job, to no job at all, to very part time rubbish job.  I’ve had a 5 year relationship fail (getting a house, thinking kids, marriage - all dreams turned to dust), had to move back in with my parents, have been broke most the year.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not been unbearable.  No one close to me has died, I’ve still got my health, my family, my friends, my car.  But for the most part this year has felt like a giant step backwards, and frankly I’d had enough of the wretched thing.  It’s been bleak, if not down right fucking depressing.

About the only positive thing that’s happened this year has been getting my CELTA qualification to teach, but even that has so far yielded no results.  Apparently it’s a bad time of year for those kind of jobs.  The only other good times have been when I’ve gotten a chance to see my friends.  Those times glow like lanterns in the mist for me.  And even they are far too rare and irregular.

The New Year is, however, looking markedly brighter already.  I’ve had a response about a job I’m very interested in, in the sector I want to work in, which is a huge bonus (if not a downright miracle).  I’m going for a beer with the bossman on Friday (the Kentish equivalent of a job interview) and discussing it further.  Fingers, and all other digits/extremities crossed for that.  I’ve also had a bit of a reunion with an old flame, and while it’s early days, things are definitely looking up in that department.  I’m trying to see my friends more often, trying to get back in shape down the gym, and I’ve (tentatively) started writing again.  As Summer turns to Autumn, Winter turns to Spring.  Yes sir, things are definitely starting to get better.

Oh, and today is my birthday.  Yay.

Peace

Ps. Harps peoples, I’m thinking of coming and terrorising you this weekend.  Be prepared.  Bring lube, a firework, a tin of iron filings and an amourous ferret.  You can’t stop me, you can only hope to contain me.

Funny Links (USA theme today)

US of A - Since we get a fair few yank readers here at the Blog I thought I’d stick up a link to an awesome song given to me by an American mate.  Get them flags a’wavin y’all. (My friend played it on loudspearkers while driving around Iraq in the army.

Gone Fishing - For every man who lives fishing more than his woman.

When I eventually got to Harps,  the lads and I had a lovely spot of lunch, where we used our combined IQ (of roughly 84) to brainstorm ways of winning the Redbull Pier jumping contest thingy.  This basically involves throwing yourself off the pier wearing a costume, and trying to get the furthest distance.  Possible ideas we came up with included harnessing a neutron star, running around it really fast until you reached the slingshot trajectory; wearing an iron suit while your mates sat in a boat with the world’s largest magnet; and incredibly strong springs on your shoes connected to a handheld firing trigger.  The first two are definite winners, but with the last one we decided it was 50/50 whether the the springs would simply punch through the pier or send your thigh bones hurtling out through your nose.  Would be fairly spectacular either way.  Definite points for style.

After lunch I had a very civilised catch up natter and pot of tea with Nat, an old friend I’d not seen for a few years in a quaint little team room called the Lily Lounge.  It’s surprising just how quickly you can catch up on three missed years, for my part it was pretty much summed up by, ‘not really been up to much’.  Then it was back to Daryl’s nice new house for some extreme Gears of War action before hitting the local pub.  But not before some underhanded Greco wrestling in the bank.  If we’d had the proper olive oil it would have been nude wrestling, but instead we just had to make do.  (Sorry about the wedgie.)

As usual we made the Inn on the Green our base of operations, partly because we like it, mostly because they put up with our crazy behaviour.  Also included in our little alcohol fueled expedition was the Harpenden Arms, where Nat and some of her friends joined us, just in time to watch an epic battle of an arm wrestle between myself and Squire Dix that lasted far too long and left me with no feeling down the right hand side of my body.  At Billy’s we stopped off for Desperados.  Somehow a certain someone managed to partially undress me, without my noticing, and when I did finally realise (and only because an ice cold beer bottle pressed against your skin makes you notice these things) I then had to walk around pretending nothing was wrong, as putting things back to rights would only have drawn attention to the situation.  After that it was back to the Inn just in time for last orders, 3 bottles of red wine takeaway, and for Toby to get broken glass all over the place.

After that the real party began in Toby’s flat, where dubious things were done, silly talk made, I discovered Daryl’s ear does in fact taste like chicken, Toby produced the finest tomato pasta this side of Naples, red wine was quaffed in excessive quantities, and general good times had by all and sundry.

What a pretty bunch

Final proof that Dix's brain is radioactive and a danger to all humanity.

Thanks to all in Harps for a lovely weekend, I’ll try and get back up again soon!!!

Funny Links

As a reward for getting all the way through that looong post (it was so long I had to stop for lunch half way through) here’s a little treat for the Blog Monkeys.

Parkour! Parkour! - How I would look trying Parkour

Parkour - How it’s really done.

While little is currently happening in my life, just the usual looking for jobs, applying for jobs, getting ignored by real jobs, getting accepted by hoax jobs, there has been activity on the Blog.

As the more observant Blog Monkeys may have noticed, there is now a new page (accessed above), entitled ‘Net Presence.  It basically contains a bunch of stuff I’ve written that people have decided to buy and stick up around the ‘net.  It’s by no means comprehensive, but more of a random sampling.   Sometimes people ask what kind of thing do I write, where does it end up, etc etc.  Because these people with their silly questions bore me, there’s now a handy place I can point them in the direction of.  Take a peek, it’s full of weird and random things.  I actually frightened myself a little by Googling my name and finding all the strange outpourings and things people have asked me to write over the years, and where they’ve ended up.

Anticipation

This week is going to be very dull.  But there is light at the end of the tunnel, sunshine coming up over the horizon, a wizard and bunch of Nordic horsemen coming over the hill.  Saturday, I’m off to Harps to party with the people.  Squire Dix is the wizard presiding over the proceedings, wearing his drinking thong of wisdom, while Riders of the Mark Daryl and Toby will no doubt be causing a ruckus in the corner, quaffing gin and manhandling the serving wenches.  The only person who won’t be out will be Big Dom who is confined to the barracks with extra homework, but I’m gonna go see him with my hangover the next day so we can chill and swap books.  I literally cannot wait.  As always full reports will be posted up on the Blog, and maybe, if you’re really lucky, photographic evidence as well.

Peace

Has been a looong day at work today.  Weddings always tend to be, but what doesn’t help is accidentally turning up to work two hours early.  Don’t get me wrong, the work isn’t all that hard (well, except for having to move loads of pianos around), but those extra two hours turn a bearable eleven and a half hour shift into a tiring thirteen and a half hours.  There’s only so much coffee you can drink before starting to shake like a heroin addict going cold turkey, and I reckon I was pushing the boundary line.

As predicted there was lots of cringe worthy granddad dancing, by people of all ages.  You know the kind of dance, where someone who has never heard a song before bop shuffles with slightly flailing arms, totally out of time to the music.  Just imagine your geriatric uncle Bob trying to dance to hip hop and you’re on the right tracks.  But it’s a wedding, so I guess it’s expected and acceptable.  The only memorable things were when the groom broke down crying mid-ceremony for five minutes and the bride’s wedding dress, which made her look like an all star quarterback in American football (think the White Witch from ‘The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe’ film).

Search

With all the wonders of cutting edge technology, which in this case involves a gang of bowler hat wearing monkeys locked in a dimly lit room, selotaped to top of the range laptops, smoking enormous cigars and drinking nothing but dry Martini’s, I can now find out exactly what goes down in the vague cyberspace recesses of the Blog.

One of the cyber monkeys on his fortnightly half hour break.

One piece of gnostic illumination that particularly tickled me was being able to see the key words people are putting into search engines in order to find the Blog.  While ‘blog of lone dixstock’ (Dixstock being an annual event reported on uniquely by the Blog) is perfectly acceptable (I bet I can even name the person doing that search), I do worry about whoever found us by searching for ‘lone mad blog’ (possibly a bit insulted by that one), and I’m positively scared to imagine the person who searched for ‘get it down zulu warrior’.

Funny Link

Think you’re bored? - Trust me, compared to these guys your life is a thrilling roller coaster of excitement and cake.

Peace and pickles.

This week has mainly been very dull.  Sitting in front of the computer all day applying for jobs isn’t a healthy lifestyle.  Have been trying to make up for this by going down the gym, but it’s not something I enjoy.

At the gym there’s always guys, and girls, who watch you out of the corner of their eyes.  You can tell the ones.  They wear fashionable gym clothes, cut to show off their muscles/breasts/tight stomachs.  They mark you.  Mark the clothes you wear, the weights you lift, how much you sweat, what you drink.

For these people the gym isn’t about keeping fit, it’s a huge exercise in vanity.  They’re the worst kind of physical image Nazi, judging others by their own warped morals.  They pour scorn on the overweight people who are genuinely trying to get fit on the treadmills and hang out in their own toned, fashionable, tanned, bunches by the free weights.

Judging people by their looks is a bit of a personal bugbear of mine.  I’ve known gorgeous people who were intelligent and interesting, and an equal amount who were vacant and dull.  Same goes for those thought of as not traditionally gorgeous.  One of the most annoying things I can remember was when an article of mine on this topic was sold.  A few days later I checked up on it, and the guy who had bought it hacked it to pieces, keeping almost only the words such as ’sexy’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘attractive’, ‘beauty’ etc.  He then used it as the front page for a porn website.  Pleased, I was not.

Quiz

Went to a huge charity quiz tonight.  Was entertaining.  Only two things of note to report.

1:  The year’s supply of beer to be won would have lasted me two weeks at most.  Either this makes me a drunkard loser, or the organisers very stingy.

2. Out of the 500 people there, I was, literally, the only one to be able to recognise a picture of the current Poet Laurette, Carol Ann Duffy.  I’m not sure if this makes me a freak, or everyone else uncultured.

Work

Got to work tomorrow.  This isn’t a bad thing as I need something to entertain me, and working weddings can sometimes be entertaining, although I have a feeling this one will not be.  Terrible dresses, worse dancing, lots of free wine, and a total lack of inhibitions do often add up to much comedy viewing for the bloke who has to stand there and watch the guests while occasionally serving a few drinks.

Funny Links

Never trust your mates.

Ps.

Just want to say a big thank you to all the Blog Monkeys out there for reading, and especially those new to the Blog who have been leaving great comments.  Thanks to you guys the Blog is now 1458.62% more popular than it was last week.  Wow.

Peace and love.

Been reading, and just finished, the new Iain Banks novel, ‘Transitions’.  As usual it’s a total masterpiece, a work of considerable art and intellect.  Unusually it’s a far cry from both his usual novels and his sci fi novels.  Multiple parallel realities, secret organisations, assassins.  It’s all terribly exciting and thought provoking at the same time.  Definitely recommended for fans of books that make you think, where the more you read into it, the more complex it becomes.  But then Banks is always the master of complex novel structure.  One of his recent novels, ‘Matter’, was about a hollow planet full of layers, and the novel reflected this with layered characters, spy, buffoon, prince, who he wrote about it layered styles, hi sci fi, Shakespearean tragi-comedy and political intrigue.  Of course then there were the layered races and philosophies, and I’m sure much more that I can’t currently recall.  But then, what else would you expect from a man who structured an entire novel to reflect the shapes and contours of his subject (’The Bridge’)?

Life

Went out for a few drinks earlier this week with my Bro, popping down the local to see my matey landlord.  Pleasant evening, fair amount drunk, Cat Stevens listened to.  Met up with some people from Bro’s work and went back to his boss’s (who was away) flat afterwards to watch tv and have a few more drinks with them.  Without going into too much detail, as you would expect from a gentleman, the lasting impression I got from that night is just how many lonely people there are in the world.  Lots.  All.  I can’t rightly say. 

Maybe we’re all lonely inside, maybe we all need someone to come and understand us and make us feel perfectly complete.  But somehow it never seems to work out that way, because none of us are perfect, we too have needs and the match is never complete, nor perfect.  Seems some people deal with it in different ways.  Some idolise and pine after someone, making them into something they’re not, making them the receptacle of all their hopes and the perceived means of their salvation.  But that doesn’t work, because, again, none of us are perfect, none of us are saints to be idolised.  Some people try and blot out their loneliness with lust, trying to bury it under the short blaze of passion.  This too doesn’t work, passion is by nature transitory, neither the body nor the mind can sustain it for long.  Always searching for someone to push it from your mind in a rush of desire and sensuality leaves you feeling just as dependant and lonely as before. 

There are plenty more ways people cope (or fail to) with loneliness, but I don’t want to bore or depress the BM’s out there.  Let’s just say there’s a lot of lonely people in the world, and just once in a while if you can reach out and do something, even if it is something insignificant and transitory, that makes a connection, well then, maybe it makes the world a little less lonely for a time.

Get to know Lone

10 Things On My Bookcases

1. A dead watch I wore across Canada.

2. A wooden carving of a hunched man given to me by my first real girlfriend.

3. A pile of old letters tied with a string, from back when friends and lovers used to write to one another.

4. A Snoopy cuddly toy my late Grandma gave me as a Christening gift.

5. An empty bottle of whiskey from Ben Nevis

6. Old diaries fitfully filled.

7. A copper statue of a dolphin (one of a pair) that used to be on my Grandma’s mantelpiece.

8. My bound Bachelor and Masters dissertations.

9. A lil’ fluffy kola toy my ex girlfriend brought back for me from her travels around Australia.

10. Books.  Hundreds of books.

The Tenterden Folk Festival took over my little country town for the weekend.  Lots of odd people with pewter tankards tied to their belts, bells on their legs, beards on their chins, black on their faces and ribbons in their hair swarmed all over my normally quiet backwater in a riot of ale induced folkishness.  Not even my normally dead local pub was safe.  Friday night my local had some fairly decent folk singing going on, which bizarrely ranged from folk songs to Gregorian chant to blues.  It felt a bit odd having to fight for my usual seat at the bar when normally I’m the only person in the place.  Even Ruby the bar dog was all out of sorts.  Seeing as it was so busy my landlord mate asked me to work the next day, and never one to turn down work and a free ham sandwich I did.  Apart from having a whole troop of morris dancers practising first thing in the morning, it wasn’t too busy; it was actually a disappointingly dull day.

I got to watch the main procession of folk dancers, morris men, musicians and weirdos through the high street, which was nicely traditional, even down to a huge guy with a long beard dressed in a frilly pink frock with his hair in ponytails.  England is traditionally eccentric it seems.  Ale was drunk, songs were sung, feet tapped, and dances danced.

In totally unrelated news.

Also have recently got tenuously back in touch with someone who was for a very long time one of the most important parts of my life.  It’s nice to know that even if it is just via a few text messages, we can still be civil and nice to each other.  She has one of those good souls I was rambling about in the last post, and it’s good to know even after everything we put each other through we’re still able to remain true to ourselves and treat each other well.  It’s a poor reflection of what might have been, but a damn sight better than how things could have ended up.  I’m proud of us.

Funny Videos:

Pole Dancing, it’s not for everyone.

It’s not how I teach, but it seems to work.

Peace

That said I did manage to find myself some decent clothes that fit.  They even look good.  Which is a step up from the usual ‘it keeps me warm’ category that most my clothes fall under.  To go with this new presentable Lone, I’ve formalised the accidental beard shaving of last week and decided to go clean shaven for a while.  I look young, almost normal.  I’m also in considerable lower facial pain.  Perhaps young, clean shaving, and lightly bleeding will attract the opposite sex, but I doubt it.

I did manage to attract an older lady who was trying to sell me glasses though.  Got myself a new, un-sat on pair, which look rather good.  Was told they were ‘young’ and that I looked very ‘now’.  I don’t think I’ve ever been ‘now’ before.  I’m not sure what being ‘now’ entails.  Should I be Twittering on a Blackberry, or reading Dan Brown on an EReader?  Somehow I ended up with the lady selling them to me calling later on to ask if I needed anti glare, and to proclaiming her love down the phone.  Slightly odd, but also confidence boosting.

All this job seeking business is tiring.  I know exactly the job I want, but can’t find any vacancies for it anywhere.  The job I want, really want, is to be Bernard Black from Black Books.  If I work on the Irish accent, I’d be perfect for the job.  So if anyone finds an advert for an ill tempered, misanthropic, heavy drinking, literate, scruffy, inhumane, humorous and egotistical book shop owner with a comical human plaything and a gorgeous female friend please let me know.

BlackBooks

Funny Video:

This made me laugh.  A lot.  Mixed Martial Arts Fail