Nothing

Let go. Let everything slide, dissolve into dust. Less than dust. True nothing. And within nothing exists, not everything, but nothing. Within nothing exists the world. As you sit in the evening sun. In the warm wind that blows across you and over you and through you exists nothing and just as the wind is nothing you, too, are nothing. True knowledge exists not in "knowing that you know nothing" but in knowing nothing. True knowledge is in being nothing. Just as the bird "scuffling in the bushes" thinks nothing, so too must we become one with nothing. For nothing is more than just merely an absence of matter, nothing is more than an opposite to matter, nothing exists outside of matter. Nothing comes where thought ends. Nothing is where the universe ends and before it began. Nothing exists before birth and after nothing exists after death. At least it should. We fill our lives with distractions in an attempt to run from the nothing we feel inside, but the soul is nothing. We must exist as nothing if we are to exist at all. The nothing we feel inside can not be filled for this nothing is the universe. This nothing is the non-thoughts of the trees. This nothing is the non-thoughts of the beasts. Within this nothing exists, not everything, but nothing. Everything is mankind. The cars. The cities. The settees. The cluttered, constant monologue of mankind is mankind. In running from savagery we turn our backs on nothing, yet it is nothing that is in the essence of us all. Nothing is beautiful. Nothing is complete. Because nothing is beautiful, and because mankind is forever searching to fill its inner nothing, mankind is essentially self-mutilating. Mankind seeks to dominate the wilderness and map the universe in order to deny its inner nothing. But it is through the wilderness and the emptiness of the universe that nothing can truly be known. Nothing can be known because it can be felt, but nothing is not something that can be understood. Nothing is not logic or mathematics, nothing is the essence of art. But art is not nothing. Art can be an expression of nothing. Art is an echo of feeling a sense of nothing. But only a sense of nothing. Nothing can only be expressed as a sense, a silhouette, because nothing is lost within civilisation. Nothing, perhaps, can not be regained within civilisation because civilisation is about the denial of nothing. Civilisation, almost by definition, is about filling nothing. Nothing has become linked to laziness -- doing nothing is a sin. But nothing is not apathy, nor is it laziness. Apathy is linked to motivation, to feelings of 'should'. Nothing is not reached through apathy, for while the consciousness is cluttered -- and it is rarely as cluttered as when in a state of apathy -- nothing can not be considered. Nothing, and thinking about nothing, requires stillness, but an inner stillness. Nothing can be found in a crowd as easily as it can be in solitude, providing you are still inside. To think nothing and to do nothing requires more than to cease doing, it requires one to totally stop thinking. To actively stop thinking one must know what nothing feels like. To think nothing one must recognise nothing within themselves, and learn how closely linked to nothing they are. And know that nothing is not bad. Nothing can not be 'bad' just as the universe can not be bad. Nothing does not operate nor exist within senses or thought and can not be categorised as such.

Note to self: get a spare set of keys

Helpfully I have managed to lock myself out of my flat.

I realised yesterday evening I didn't have my keys, but since I was staying the night at San's anyway I didn't figure it would be much of a problem. Instead, I said I'd call my landlord today if I didn't find them in university. So this evening I call my landlord, only to find I can't get through, instead I get a message telling me it has not been possible to connect my call and to try again later.

I have tried again later. And later still. I have called my parents to find out his home address from their copy of my tenancy agreement, and called directory enquries. But that number is ex-directory. Fecking useless bastard.

It looks like my only course of action will be to try and find where he lives and hope that he -- or someone who can help me -- is at home. I'm lucky I know San, otherwise I would have nowhere to go at all -- as it is, I have only the clothes I'm wearing and my law revision.

I should be revising for tomorrow's exam, instead I'm stressing out because I can't get into my flat. And trying not to stress out by playing a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy text game, and not doing very well at it.

I should leave now and try and find his house, rather than wait for San to come back from her dance class in an hour's time.

Update:
Right before I was going to leave I got through on the phone, and found my landlord had gone out. Long story short, I got in the next day. No harm done. Going home for Easter now so it might be a day or two before I get online again, kids.

Bringing back my star

I was trying to hold out on renewing my d-x plus subscription, not because I didn't want to renew but because I wanted to see what the new features would be. But the new features aren't yet here, and I had been reduced to a normal user again. I was more worried about losing the pics I had saved here than anything else, but the pics are all still there and my gold star will be returned.

Things here are much the same as ever. That is, I'm confused.

I have edited this entry to cut out what was a bit of a ramble about some issues of a more personal nature, so if you read it and have come back to find it gone -- that's why, you're not crazy. I have deleted that stuff because I have since found some medical information that has put my mind at ease a little, and where San was being cold and/or moody this morning she has since found that her essay that she thought was due in tomorrow isn't due in until next week, and has told me she isn't in such a foul mood any more. Just the same I've declined her invitation to stay the night since I need to go home for drugs.

As for me, yeah, I'm currently feeling a little adrift. I need to get out to the swimming pool and exert myself a little -- swimming, rock climbing, I exert myself and I'm not troubled with thoughts of I'm not good enough, or I need to do this right. Maybe I just forgot to take my medication yesterday, or maybe I just need some time alone.

And look at the new template I have wasted about five hours fiddling with, rather than learning about copyright, defamation and the 1981 contempt of court act. Or going swimming. But I shall put right the latter now...

Weighing up the options

I wrote a short entry perhaps last week, or earlier, about things with San which promptly got deleted after we slept on things and talked it over. But one thing that sticks with me now is that I mentioned how with our track record together we were about time for another break up. I have a feeling things might yet go that way.

I don't want to say it is a major factor, but last week San went to bed with another guy. She insists that she didn't do anything, that she only went to his house (she had met him something like the day before, which I've pointed out is not so smart) but it got late and she fell asleep. Or something. I've asked her very specifically to tell me if anything happened, but she's sticking with nothing did.

The reaction I've got from most people so far is "Doesn't this bother you?". Apparently her friends don't think it was on, and expect me to be mad. Mine are more bemused than anything as to why I'm not mad.

I've told San in no uncertain terms I'm far from happy about it, but I don't plan to make it into a big deal. If she behaved herself then that's fine, but I don't want it happening again. And it's not safe to be going to guys houses alone when you barely know them.

In conversations over the past day or two, San has seemed interested in the idea of seeing other people. She said the other day that of course she would like to be sleeping with other guys, but wouldn't want me to be seeing other people and realises that it just wouldn't work.

All the same, some of the old ideas are reemerging -- that we're still young, should be out having fun, and have the rest of our lives ahead of us to be settled down in serious relationships. She asked me to marry her once, incidentally. I didn't think she was serious, and later explained to her it couldn't work out here and now. I'm right, too. San is interested to know what else is out there, what being with other people is like, what she is like with other people. But she realises we couldn't go on seeing each other in such a context, and has said she wants to "shelve" the idea. That is, ignore it and hope it goes away.

She says to me "You want me to tell you I don't want that, don't you?". I tell her honestly, I don't want to break up -- but I do want her to be happy.

I know I love the girl, don't get me wrong, and she does love me -- but unless love is a different animal to different people, I'm not sure we would be having discussions like this. And we all know I'm not entirely without blame. I think about other girls, what it might be like to be with them. But ultimately I weigh up which I want more -- the lady and the tiger, or what is behind the door. And I choose what I have.

I expect this will all pass over in a day or week or so, just like it usually does.

Update--
San seems to have quite a different perception on our earlier discussions, almost to the point of denying what she said. But then again, she has been in and out of sleep mostly all day -- though I'm not sure why she's so tired -- and now and again starts having an entirely different conversation on her own. She just woke up, told me my hair was nice, and went back to sleep again. But I'm straying off the point -- which is I don't expect anything much, if anything at all, to change between us. For better or worse.

News and apologies

I feel kind of bad about my last entry.

While I was sat here whining about people throwing water-bombs at me in the street in the background News 24 was playing. I just didn't stop to think that hundreds of people are dead in Madrid and I was being a complete ass to complain about some water balloons. I'm sure there's plenty that would gladly trade places with me, I just wasn't thinking.

But moving swiftly on-- I got to climbing, and it rocks (no pun intended). It might not have the "rush" of snowboarding, or the more relaxing feel of swimming, but it is damn cool and something I am going to pursue further. Unfortunately I probably won't join the group who arranged the introductory day yesterday, since they don't meet in the city itself and I can't drive. I know there is at least one group who do meet in the city and go climbing on a weekly basis so I will chase up them. My arms hurt today, but it's a good hurt. Not like when my neck hurts because I've been sat in front of a computer all day.

In other news, everyone go and express their eternal love and devotion to Emma for her help in making my bravenet comments form a reality. Until I manage to get the form to have required fields, can everyone please at least include their name and email? I've got a comment sitting in my inbox that says "Cool, new comments system! Nice choice." but I have no idea who it is from, and IP lookups aren't being any help.

And that's about it for now. I need to stare at this story for tomorrow's paper some more -- it's written, but I'm not happy with it yet.

One year ago today

Guess what?

Entirely by chance, I have found that this diary is precisely one year old today. You can find my first entry all the way back on March 12, 2003. There's some interesting reading in the archives, if you have the patience -- but please be tolderant of the template changes, some of the very oldest entries had a template that has since been deleted.

But yes, there's not much to say other than that really. San's busy working for an essay due in on Monday, and however much I want to see her I know there's little point. She has no tv, and even if she did it would be distracting for her to have it on. She will be using her laptop to work on, and music would be as distracting as a tv. Also, I wouldn't be able to bug her for attention because she has to get this work done, and no ammount of chastising her for not starting it earlier will change that.

However, I am going climbing tomorrow -- finally, and again something that wasn't planned. Because I was flicking through one of my shorthand notebooks looking for someone to chase up for news today, since the stories I had wanted to cover have falled through until at least Monday which is going to be deadline day next week -- a day earlier that normal, and a complete pain in the arse.

As I was looking I found some stuff about climbing that I had drawn a bracket around to tell me it wasn't about work, but stuff I should follow up for myself. I called the first number about an event happening tomorrow, and found that not only was I planning to go but if I brought along my camera and notebook I could make it into a story, too. Which isn't bad. I may not have the build for a climber -- as people have pointed out to me, albeit in a very indirect way -- but I'm looking to get into it just the same. And tomorrow it starts.

And in other news, it bugs me that I am still jumpy about going out since my attack. Twice since the attack, I have been walking past the pub where it happened and have had water balloons thrown at me. I think it happened once before the attack, too, but back then I just found it annoying. Last time it happened I actually called the police to report it when I got in. I only called the local number, rather than dialling for emergency help, but I reported it because it really shook me up and I hadn't known what it was they were throwing. For all I knew, it could have been rocks.

Last night I was walking up the road, and noticed people further up the road, by the pub. I don't know what I saw, or how I could tell, but I got the feeling it wasn't 'normal' behaviour of people walking one place or another, probably because I could see one or more people running into the road. So I just took the early opportunity to cross onto the other side of the street, away from the pub. As I walked past I could see people on the other side of the wall behind the pub -- the same place they had been before. I think they were checking me out, and trying to remain hidden. I laughed to myself as I walked on, saying to myself that I had out-smarted them by spotting them early and there was no way they could reach me from their hiding place.

I quickly found they weren't going to try to, instead they ran into the street to try and hit me with the balloons as I was getting away. Obviously they didn't have the courage to get close to me, which is why they normally hide behind a wall, and even though they ran into the street they didn't get close enough for a good shot. They all missed, and ran away again.

I didn't call the police this time, because I knew it was only balloons and unlike last time didn't think it was a personal attack on me, or that I was going to be followed up the road and assaulted. Just the same, it annoys me that I should have to put up with this -- that I should have to walk a different way home to avoid trouble down my own road. But I expect I will be out of here by the end of the summer.

A girl named Bob

It was a little after 10 last night when I left San's flat. Rather than just go straight home and read for a while I figured that instead I would come here, to the library, and check my email. Not for any real reason, I just like to check it when I can -- since I can't back at my own flat, and hadn't been able to at San's since one of her flatmates was using San's laptop to make her CV.

It's important to the story that I was planning on coming here, because if I was going home I would have walked in a completely different direction -- that is, I would not have been walking past this one particular bar just as a very drunk girl in big black boots and a very short skirt stumbled out, and almost fell down the steps. I hesitated for a minute, when I thought she was going to fall down the steps, but she regained her balance just as her equally-drunk friend came out behind them.

I think they might have seen me hesitate for a minute, because as I started to walk away from them towards the library they started calling out to me. So I stopped walking and let them catch up. Like I say, they were very drunk but they weren't obnoxious so I was happy enough to walk with them a little way and humour them. They asked me my name, and introduced themselves. They were Vicky, and Bob. A girl named Bob. I didn't really believe that was Bob's real name, but it was nothing to me what she claimed her name was so I let it lie.

They asked me where I was going, and not having a good explanation ready I told them the truth -- to the library, to check my email. They were far from impressed, and instead insisted I should go to the pub with them. I quickly weighed up in my head what would be more fun -- checking my email, and getting a very uncomfortable neck (much like now), or going to the pub with these two drunk, but friendly, girls.

Of course, it was no contest. So we got some cash out a little way up the road, and by this time the rest of their friends had come out of the bar and caught us up. I was introduced to the others -- albeit awkwardly, because they were too drunk to remember my name -- and we all carried on to the pub.

Bob was attractive, but in a way that is difficult to explain. I can describe her long legs, big boots and short skirt -- but it wasn't this that made her attractive. It wasn't even the oversized cardigan she was wearing, with big holes in the sleeves where she persistently stuck her hands through. In some way, I think she reminded me a little of Kath -- both crazy and a little bit quiet at the same time.

In the short time we were in pub Bob got progressively quieter and withdrawn, while her friends tried to get her to wake up or join in. Bob's quietness turned instead into tears, although she was refusing to tell anyone what was wrong. Vicky did manage to get her to talk, but only on the condition that everyone else move to a different table so as not to be able to hear what Bob was saying.

By this time, the pub was closing and before long we had been asked to leave so we waited outside for Bob and Vicky. I talked a little to one of their sober friends, who it turned out had gone to the same school as Fiona -- although I didn't ask her if she had known Fi. I just mentioned that I knew a girl that had lived in Shropshire.

Bob and Vicky took their time while we waited outside, but eventually they turned up and it was decided that -- despite Bob protesting that her feet hurt and she wanted only to go home -- that we were going clubbing. It was to be an indie club, so I was happy enough to join them. Unfortunately, the only way Vicky could get Bob to stop complaining about her feet (I personally think they should have taken her home, but it wasn't my place to get involved) was by promising her a piggy back.

From me.

So she jumped on my back, with her legs wrapped round my waist, and I carried her down the road for as long as I could. She wasn't excessively heavy, but just the same it wasn't an easy task to carry her -- but not wanting to offend her by saying I needed to put her down, I continued down the road with this drunk girl who was almost a stranger to me hanging on to my back and occasionally screaming when I pretended I was going to make her hit something. I had to amuse myself somehow. There's probably other ways to amuse yourself with a drunk girl who has her legs round your waist, but I'm not that kind of guy.

In fact, one of the only reasons I had agreed to go to the pub with Bob and Vicky was not because I fancied them -- which I didn't, they were just not my type -- but because I thought if I didn't go with them then another guy would, and someone else might have other ideas on how to treat two drunk girls. I figured it was no inconvenience to me to have some drinks with them and have a laugh, especially if it kept them out of trouble.

I did have to put Bob down before too long, although she didn't seem to take offence to it. She was too busy insisting to Vicky she wanted to go home, and Vicky insisting Bob had agreed to come to the club and have a good time (because you really can just agree to have a good time, apparently) and that she would be able to sit down when we got there. This was all fine until we got to the city centre and Bob recognised a shop which meant she wasn't far from where she lived. And more or less refused to go on.

Bob was refusing to go on, but instead insisting she wanted to go home -- and go home on her own, too. Naturally nobody was prepared to let Bob walk home on her own, and Vicky was still insisting she come to the club. Eventually it was decided that we would go on ahead to the club, and Vicky would talk to Bob and catch us up. I think it was clear that Vicky was more than likely just end up taking Bob home, however much she was protesting.

So I walked on with the less drunk and semi-sober friends, until they decided they'd go to a different club, and not the indie club. Without Bob and Vicky there was nobody to insist on my company, it was coming up to midnight and I wasn't prepared to go to a club I didn't like just for the sake of it. And I went home.

I can't tell you how it ends. I don't know if Vicky let Bob walk home on her own, or if Bob agreed to go to the club with Vicky. But most likely, I think Vicky just took Bob home.

An interesting sidenote -- at one point in the evening, someone asked what Bob's real name was. Apparently, according to Vicky, it was Charlotte -- she just doesn't like her name, and calls herself Bob instead.

For a minute there, I lost myself

As usual yesterday I went swimming. Since I have my phone on nearly 24 hours a day, sometimes it's a relief to turn it off for an hour or so while I go swimming. Maybe it's an ego thing, I can imagine people are wanting to get in touch with me. I don't know.

Anyway, the mood I was in before I went swimming had more or less lifted by the time I had got out of the pool. I turned my phone on to a message from San telling me that her friend Kris was over, along with some people called Eric and Mo, and I should come over. I then got an almost identical message from her a second time (she probably couldn't remember if she sent it the first time, since she got no reply) and when I answered her she told me again to come over.

It turned out Eric and Mo were her friend Maureen and her boyfriend Eric, who we had met briefly before one time. I remember that we had been meant to go out with them for a drink, but they opted to stay in and get stoned instead so we gave it a miss.

San was bugging me that they were hungry and wanted to go eat, and since I wasn't sure how long I would be getting back (I had to wait for a bus) I told her to go on without me and I would catch up with them later. I figured I'd just spend the evening on my own. But the bus arrived, and they waited for me, and we all headed out to a Mexican restaurant in the city center.

It must have been a good restaurant, because they had no tables. So we went to a Tapas restaurant, who told us it would be an hour and a half before we could get a table. But as we stood outside in the cold discussing what other options were open to us, the manager came out and told us if we still wanted a table one was just leaving and we could have it.

It felt like being on holiday.

The restaurant was of course dark and mostly lit by candles in wine bottles on the tables, and as we talked I imagined that the traditional Spanish music was being played by a real band and we were in a Mediterranean country. I told San how good it would be, there would be windsurfing and rock climbing and hiking and snorkelling -- even if she didn't like the sound of any of those things.

Kris, San's friend, had given us each pictures. These pictures are hard to describe, but they were roughly hashed images of messy lines and we were to write whatever we wanted from the pictures. So I wrote descriptions of what I saw -- a man fighting with a demon, a bride standing over her dead groom, a couple waltzing like in Jack Vettriano's painting "The Singing Butler", but since they had no feet they seemed insubstantial as ghosts.

Me and San would swap pictures and read each others interpretations -- what she saw as a soldier walking home along a mountain path I saw as a prostitute walking along a deserted road.

It was a night to forget yourself. To forget that tomorrow morning I am missing classes in shorthand and public affairs to meet up with a mediation service in hope of getting a story for Tuesday's news page.

It's now a cold and grey Sunday afternoon. I should perhaps go home and get a fresh towel and dry shorts to go swimming again today, maybe then I can kick these blues.

I wish I'd killed a foreign king

I swear, I have been meaning to update for days. Except when I sit down to it, I can't think of anything really worth writing about it. Things right now just seem to be carrying on as normal without any real development or drama.

I'm feeling sort of apathetic -- perhaps shades of the body-snatched feeling of a few months back. It's not that bad, but it's sort of around there. It might be the meds, blocking me off from really feeling anything. Or it might just be me. I think the latter is more likely, since this feeling isn't unknown to me.

Things with San are largely good. This isn't as good as "very good", as I was describing them last week, but they're better than just "good" or "yeah, alright". I think San is feeling insecure because I don't seem as into her recently, like she has become unattractive to me. I try to explain how I'm feeling but it doesn't much get us anywhere.

San took offence when I said that I felt she would go looking elsewhere if I couldn't start to show her more attention -- mainly in the bedroom department, perhaps, but emotionally too. All the same, I'm not entirely sure what she gets up to with other guys when she goes out -- I know she doesn't do anything that could be considered cheating, but I don't think I'd like it. She also expressed an interest in going to a speed-dating night, but I think dropped the subject when it was my turn to take offence that I'm not enough on my own. It had shades of the day we went to the zoo over the summer and she wanted to see other people.

Incidentally, she has since claimed that she was trying to make me jealous. But she has also started to try and deny that claim, since I have a tendency to not let go of things. Of course, she wouldn't have admitted at the time that was what she was doing -- and if it's what she's doing now she probably won't admit it until later. But I have faith it will all work itself out.

In other news, Fi and I are talking again. I was resentful about her almost total silence since we met in December, but gave her another chance by emailing her asking her what gives, and asking if I had done something to piss her off. It was just as I expected -- her boyfriend found out we had met behind his back, and was not happy about it. Seems the guy is threatened by me. Maybe he should date San -- she almost freaks out at the mention of Fi's name.

So you see, nothing much to say. I'm still considering the Air Force, just for a career and maybe the opportunity to fly something shiny. But journalism isn't completely repulsive to me, either, and it will be what I am trained to do by the end of the summer.

Is there anything vodka can't do?



1. To remove a bandage painlessly, saturate the bandage with vodka. The solvent dissolves the adhesive.

2. To clean the caulking around bathtubs and showers, fill a trigger-spray bottle with vodka, spray the caulking, let set five minutes and wash clean. The alcohol in the vodka kills mold and mildew.

3. To clean your eyeglasses, simply wipe the lenses with a soft, clean cloth dampened with vodka. The alcohol in the vodka cleans the glass and kills germs.

4. Prolong the life of razors by filling a cup with vodka and letting your safety razor blade soak in the alcohol after shaving. The vodka disinfects the blade and prevents rusting.

5. Spray vodka on vomit stains, scrub with a brush, then blot dry.

6. Using a cotton ball, apply vodka to your face as an astringent to cleanse the skin and tighten pores.

7. Add a jigger of vodka to a 12-ounce bottle of shampoo. The alcohol cleanses the scalp, removes toxins from hair, and stimulates the growth of healthy hair.

8. Fill a sixteen-ounce trigger-spray bottle with vodka and spray bees or wasps to kill them.

9. Pour one-half cup vodka and one-half cup water in a freezer bag, and freeze for a slushy, refreezable ice pack for aches, pain, or black eyes..

10. Fill a clean, used mayonnaise jar with freshly packed lavender flowers, fill the jar with vodka, seal the lid tightly and set in the sun for three days. Strain liquid through a coffee filter, then apply the tincture to aches and pains.

11. Make your own mouthwash by mixing nine tablespoons powered cinnamon with one cup vodka. Seal in an airtight container for two weeks. Strain through a coffee filter. Mix with warm water and rinse your mouth. Don't swallow.

12. Using a q-tip, apply vodka to a cold sore to help it dry out.

13. If a blister opens, pour vodka over the raw skin as a local anesthetic that also disinfects the exposed dermis.

14. To treat dandruff, mix one cup vodka with two teaspoons crushed rosemary, let sit for two days, strain through a coffee filter and massage into your scalp and let dry.

15. To treat an earache put a few drops of vodka in your ear. Let set for a few minutes. Then drain. The vodka will kill the bacteria that is causing pain in your ear.

16. To relieve a fever, use a washcloth to rub vodka on your chest and >back as a liniment.

17. To cure foot odour, wash your feet with vodka.

18. Vodka will disinfect and alleviate a jellyfish sting.

19. To remove cigarette smoke in your home or office mix one part vodka and three parts water and spray the clothing, then launder and let dry.

20. Pour vodka over an area affected with poison ivy to remove the urushiol oil from your skin.

21. Swish a shot of vodka over an aching tooth. Allow your

gums to absorb some of the alcohol to numb the pain.