Homeless, Like Kurt, who was deep

I'm in the house watching the Nirvana night on BBC4, or to be honest I've only just turned it on. Right at the point where they're saying that Kurt Cobain used to be homeless. Something I never knew.

I've been homeless myself, but never for long, never more than a few weeks before I found somewhere to stay. If I had to spend a few nights under a bridge or in a park or even in a casualty waiting room (like Cobain did) I always managed to get myself a sofa in someone's house, or crash out in a cupboard at a party.

The first time I spent a night out was during some shitty rioting that happens in Northern Ireland from time to time. I was coming home from a party at a friends house (I was only a teenager at the time by the way) when I heard more noise than I should have heard at that time of night in that area. I turned a corner where I could see a lot better a crowd of angry bastards charging up the street in my direction. That was my cue to turn and run like a mutherfucker, not in the opposite direction, back the way I came (at a right angle to the rioters route). I managed to get to a bridge that I had to cross on my way to school. It was in a remote part of town, and not lit, so I tucked myself under it to sleep. It was stupid for a lot of reasons. It's a bad idea to put yourself in an obscure area far the fuck away from anyone, but since the town was getting fucked up it was the best of nothing but bad options.

It wasn't the last time I slept under a bridge, or that bridge, but I hope that part of my life is over with, unless the economy sends everything to shit again, and in that case there's always cat burgling and crack.

How to Avoid The Mess That Is Orangefest

That's me off on the first wee holiday to meself that I've had in donkeys (years - yes it's been years - unless you count going to stay with my brother in Larne, which I don't).

I found out that I'd accrued a few days holiday so I'm getting paid for my wee fucking off. It's gonna be great, just a wee jaunt down south to get the Twelfth out of the way. I went last year and to be honest Orangefest was a big nothing.

I thought I should tell you something about work because I don't much. It's a different place from the last call centre. Work is easier but a bit more boring because of it. Even Little My and Kissy Boy who were in the last place seem different, everyone's a little more asleep. Betty Blue just sits in the canteen and reads. She was reading a book today called The Collector I asked her what it's about and she said a friend of an ex-boyfriend. I hope that wasn't a dig at me. Anyone read it? I haven't the balls to google it incase it was an insult, be gentle but tell me. I want to know.

Threats from Occult Forces

Yesterday was when I had that conversation with Hot Baby Roy about us stopping crack. He was really disappointed and said that he'd been planning some good crack smoking times and he was gonna get me and him initialled pipes but I told him no way hose.

He brought out a few rocks of crack and said it'd be a shame to throw them away. I said okay then, for old times sake.

We sparked up the pipe and had a good old smoke of the crack. We were having a great time, and Hot Baby Roy said: "Wouldn't it be great if it was like this all the time?"

I thought so, but then I thought a bit harder and I saw us in about ten years time, still on the dole, wearing the clothes we were wearing then with not a tooth in our heads. I told him it would break my heart.

He said that I was killing his buzz so he was going to go and see if Hot Baby Roy on crack could have his way with The Raven Princess Spandex. I told him to remember that no-means-no because the last thing we wanted was the cops to show up when we were doing crack.

He rolled his eyes and fucked off.

Five minutes later the door went. I thought he'd forgotten his keys but when I answered it Balkazaler was standing there bearing his fangs.

"I wondered if I'd see you this week I said. You're not getting my fucking vote."

"Shut up you crackheaded fucker. What are you doing smoking that shit again?"

"I'm just having a bit for old times sake, anyway I'm bored, like it's any of your fucking business."

"Listen I'm a powerful daemon! I can see the future and you need a clear head."

"Why? Is this something to do with The Death Owl?"

"Never mind him, this is much bigger than him. You stop smoking that shit or I'll kick your balls up and out your mouth."

"I was quiting anyway after tonight. You're still not getting my vote you peeler tasched fucker."

"You're not registered to vote in East Antrim," he reminded me. Then he walked to the front door, unfurled his horned scaly wings and flew off into the night.

Back to the Bad Old Dole

I slept all day apart from waking up occasionally to boke or cough up nasty green shit (not so much red so yey). Anyway it finally hit home about an hour ago that I'm going to be back on the dole again and it was no fun before. Being on the dole and working shit jobs are really two sides of the same coin, basically having no money and having shitheads hassle you about bollocks. Is there any way out of the cycle?

Sometimes I think I should just quit Belfast and go live in the countryside and all that but it'd probably end up being like one of those bad movies about how the city fella moves to the country and he thinks the culchie folk are dicks and they think he's the dick but they both end up learning that they each know stuff the other doesn't - bollocks. I'd go back on the crack in no time and end up running bollock naked through the mountains killing fish with a homemade bow and arrow.

That or I could go back to live in Larne but that's where old people go to catch arthritis and throw their marbles in the sea. No that's not for me.

A Visit From Wino Jo

Wino Jo called round today. He was there to make up with me after the intervention. I've a feeling that the others will be calling soon and that he's here to smooth things over first.

He's stayed dry (off the booze) but he's all obsessed about finding Foosted Wotsit head and getting him off the booze too. I told him that Foosted Wotsit head wouldn't be back not ever.

He asked if I'd killed Foosted Wotsit head.

I couldn't believe he'd think me capable.

I told him no, but that I'd thought Foosted Wotsit head killed him, because of all his violent dreams.

We talked about not much for a long time. Then he burst out saying that he thinks we all have addictive personalities in our family. Him to booze, me to drugs, the fruitarian with his health food, the hot shot banker with money and the metaller with heavy metal. I told him that our metaller brother wasn't addicted to metal but he may have a point about the rest of us.

He asked me if I'd think of giving up and I told him I already had, and that I'd a nice house and a puppy dog and was trying to get myself a girlfriend.

He said he was glad about me sorting myself out and he hopes I get a girlfriend. He started to talk about our dad. Who was a drunk himself. He said that he remembers one time as a kid that he boked and dad stuck his face in it and kicked him up the arse. Nasty fucker. I wasn't sure the way he said it if it was his boke or dad's boke but I wouldn't be surprised dad did it either way. He was a sadistic fucker. Anyway the next time Wino Jo boked he made sure it was in a flower pot or somewhere that dad wouldn't spot it; the oul man hated 'poofy flowers' as he called them.

In the end me and Wino Jo took Battle Cat for a nice walk and he caught the train back to my metaller brother's house in foosted Larne. He says he hates it there, there's electric rock and roll smokin' hot guitar solos every night of the week.

A party at last.

Fabian Wildman was out when I got home from my metaller brothers. A bit careless like because he left Battle Cat in on his own. When he does this he leaves him out a bowl of food and lots of water so it's not too bad, but I sometimes worry about people breaking in and stealing him.

Anyways he finally came back last night with Betty Blue and some of her mates. The Unicorn Girl, a girl called Sandcastles and A guy called Stanley (who looks like Stan Laurel),

Unicorn Girl seemed to have forgiven (or at least forgotten) my faux pass the other night, and gave me a big hippy hug when she came in. Sandcastles didn't say much and Stanley turned out to be probably the biggest closet homosexual I've ever met.

From the moment he opened his mouth I thought he was a bit camp and within the first few minutes of meeting him he'd insisted that he wasn't gay (even though no one had suggested he was), that Robbie Williams was gay without a doubt (because of the women he had dated) and that he has nothing against gays.

Then he proceeded to tell a story which had no real point beyond him fucking his girlfriend (apparently his dick bled afterwards).
Once we got that out of the way he calmed down and the three of them had brought booze, they said I could have some. I took Fabian aside and told him what had happened at my "intervention". Fabian was livid. I'd started to calm down about it, I wasn't so much angry any more, as just hurt.

Then we'd a knock on the door. We were worried in case it was the peelers.

"Open up It's Hot Baby Roy," shouted Hot Baby Roy from outside.

We let him in, he'd his friend Clarence with him (who I hadn't met before but Fabian says he's like Hot Baby Roy turned up full blast).

Hot Baby Roy wanted to know if he could watch Bring It On here because his TV was bust and it had sexy cheerleaders in it. Clarence started downing a bottle of vodka and rubbing his crotch. I think Betty Blue's mates were a bit scared.

I told him no, but that him and Clarence could hang out and have a bit of a shindig with us because I'd been expecting one last week that hadn't happened.

In the end we'd a good laugh, the sweaty metallers came round and brought the banshee. I got fucking trashed and I remember telling Hot Baby Roy that he was becoming a good mate (I hope I didn't tell him he could move in when Fabian goes). I rolled up my big Hermione poster and gave it to him (even though Fabian gave it to me first) but it was mostly because I didn't want the girls to see (I think girls find it a bit weird).

Lick the Bowl

I went round to my metaller brothers last night thinking we were in for a cool time hanging out. When I got there my fruitarian brother and my hot shot banker one were there too.

We all went into the living room, and there was Wino Jo, sitting alive and well, looking washed and shaved.

"Hello Tuesday Kid," he said giving me a firm handshake.

"Wino Jo! You're not dead! I thought Foosted Wotsit Head had murdered you!"

I saw the metaller brother and the hot shot banker give each other a funny look.

"So this is a big party to celebrate you coming back, where were you?"

"I was getting dried out," he says, pointing up behind him. I don't know where he was pointing because there's not that much between here and the sea.

"Tuesday Kid," my metaller brother said. "We're hear today to talk to you about some of your problems."

It was then I clocked too late, that I'd just walked in to my own intervention.

"My problems? What problems?" I don't think they were concerned about my lack of sexy lover girls.

"Doing heroin, living with a heroin addict..."

"I've never done heroin."

"You smoke crack," he shouted. "You need to get dried out."

"Crack is freebased cocaine! And I haven't smoked crack since February. What the fuck is this?"

I looked at the Hot Shot Banker, "You read my blog, you should know that I gave up ages ago, why didn't you tell them?"

"I stopped reading it because you were slagging me off," he said looking sulky.

"What about that phonecall the other night?" My metaller brother asked triumphantly. "You were clearly out of it on something."

"I was drunk, you drink too you fucking dickhead. So what if I get pissed? or sniff the odd felt tip? The reality is none of you really give a fuck, and you're all doing this to act like big men (that's a quote I stole from Jeremy Kyle). How long have you all known that Wino Jo was back? and you knew I was worried, and you never told me, and none of you were there when I did give up crack."

None of them could really say anything to this.

"Fuck this," I said. "I'm going home to lick the bowl."

I stormed out of the house. The fruitarian followed me out. He said I should come back because we hadn't hung out in ages. I told him to get fucked, after all the bunches of bananas I bought him when he was rolling about naked in his garden looking like Jungle Barry.

I wandered down to the train station telling myself that I needed to get the fuck out of Sammy Wilson country, and that when I did get home I was seriously going to lick the bowl.

We'll Make Great Pets

My metaller brother called today and said that he hadn't seen me in ages, and wanted to know if I'd come to his house to hang out this week. I said yeah, and asked him had he heard anything about Wino Jo. He said that he'd explain it when he saw me. I was a bit worried by this answer and said:

"He's not dead is he?"

My Metaller brother chucked and said "No, no, no, don't be silly."

Strange answer but I guess they must have heard something about him being okay.

Betty Blue brought round a mate last night and the four of us had dinner. I'd no real warning of this(fifteen minutes notice from Fabian Wildman) but I clicked pretty early that they were trying to set me up with her.

I didn't mind but I'd planned a night of licking the bowl. I also needed time to download some cool shit from the internet on how to talk to hippy girls. I'd learned from the party that they didn't get impressed from fight stories, which is a pity because I've a few good ones.

As it turned out she was into "causes" one of which was endangered animals. Which is a cool cause, she was talking for ages about pandas and tigers etc and it all sounded really cool up until she said. "We don't want to see another beautiful creature like the unicorn become extinct."

I didn't know what to say about this. So I smiled and said "I used to know a girl in primary school who thought unicorns were real."

I don't know what was worse, the look on her face or the look on Fabian and Betty Blue's I wasn't trying to be nasty, it just popped out. Because I thought she was sweet, and I've always put being a nice person over brains.

The night didn't get any worse, but we didn't really hit it off.

It all comes out (a bit)

I got really pissed the other day when I was down at Nanny Boo Boo's, that old lady likes to pack her vodka away. I like it too but vodka always leaves me in a really emotional state and after blurting out to her that I wasn't looking forward to Fabian Wildman leaving and how my brother Wino Jo had been missing all year and no one's seen him and I hadn't heard from my brothers in months and I was pissed off that no one gave a fuck. I told her about Foosted Wotsit head and how I thought he'd done something to Wino Jo but that he'd disappeared to and all the leads were cold.

She said that I should put an add in the Belfast Telegraph but I said I'd no money and sure no one reads the classifieds except for spooks looking for instructions on their next mission.

She asked me some more about Foosted Wotsit Head and when I told her she said that she'd known him years ago and that she was surprised he was a wino because back in the day gambling was his thing and that he played a mean game of stud poker.

I was so plastered but when I got home Fabian Wildman was out and so I phoned my metaller brother in Larne but he wasn't in so I left him a voice mail. I have to admit I was pretty emotional so it just came out something like:

"Wino Jo...Wino Jo...where is Wino Jo....f-f-f-Foosted Wotsit Head has had bad dreams."

Or some shit so I hate to think what he made of it. I haven't heard back from him. I might leave it a week or two and call again.

Crack Memories

I once pished myself on a bus, when I was high on crack. I'm saying this because I'm strongly tempted to have some because Fabian Wildman is giggling about all over the house high and happy and I'm starting to miss it.

Part of me thinks I should kick him out because much as he's bad for me.

Anyways when I pished myself it was on a bus back from my metaller brother's house in Larne. Balkazaler (the Daemon who looks like Sammy Wilson of The DUP) was sitting beside me at the time refusing to give his seat up for an old age pensioner, when I heard a dripping sound.

"I think you've spilt your Lucozade," he chortled.

"Oh crumbs," I spat looking up into the wee old woman's face. "If you tell anyone about this I'll find you."

Then I got off at the next stop.

When I looked back at the bus window the old bitch was cackling away to herself even though she was now sitting in a puddle of my pish.

Christmas Shopping In Belfast

I tried to do some Christmas shopping today but Belfast was bunged. I headed straight for bargain books. This is where I'd get most of my stuff. I saw a book on true crime which I thought Fabian Wildman would like but then I remembered him saying he was going to stab Ron Weasley for me, so I decided I didn't want anything that might push him in the wrong direction. I know he'll steal anything he gets me but just like the Hermione Granger poster it'll be a good gift. I think he's been dropping hints it'll be pajamas, after my two recent bollock naked incidents. I hope he steals them out of a shop because I don't want to wear something someone might have wanked in.

I bought him a book on dreamology because it might help him understand his nightmares a bit better, even though dreaming about a violent satanist with a knife can really only mean one thing.

I bought Battle Cat a squeaky bone out of a pet store because he's chewed the shit out of the other one and he's started on anything that can look shit with a bite out of it. I bought him a few.

I found a little wooden horse in a knick-knack store and thought about getting it for Hooka, but then I thought it was a bit gay and left it.

Then I went and found Wino Jo and invited him to mine for Christmas day, but he said that our Metaller brother in Larne had already invited him. So I gave him his Christmas Present (a bottle of Black Bush) and wished him a happy Christmas.

Then I went back to the knick-knack shop and bought the little wooden horse for Hooka.