Tonight Will Be Fine

Hot Baby Roy is out now to see Hot Firey Love Lady. She wants to talk about the weekend and what happened. I hope it works out. Hot Baby Roy feels terrible about it but I'm not sure if it's because she's upset with him or because he had his ass kicked for a second time in front of her.

The Punchbowl Girl has asked me out to a party tonight so I can meet some of her mates. I hope it goes okay. I hope there's not some typical Belfast blast from the past waiting to knee me in the proverbial balls.* I hope that in the words of Leonard Cohen (a favourite of The Punchbowl Girl's) "Tonight will be fine, will be fine, will be fine, will be fine."

*In Belfast everyone knows everyone else so when you meet someone new they always know people you know (and don't want to see anymore) or worse people you've fucked over (or fucked up).

Nick Griffin is a Fat Wanker

We're on the phones now and it's amazing how it all comes so naturally. Mind is numb and days are set to drift pass with occasional "craic" how do people go from these jobs to ones they like? What do I like?

I'm not saying I've gone back to what I was at the end of the last call centre. I just know it's coming off in the distance.

There's a work do tomorrow night and I'm going because Hot Baby Roy has asked me ever so nicely if he can have the downstairs to himself tomorrow night because he wants to cook Gingerella a meal. All the time I've lived with him he's burnt toast and over filled Pot Noodles. I told him to go online and get some recipes and good luck with it.

On my way home from work today I found a piece of paper lying folded on the ground. When I read it it was the following:

C                  D                G
All the guys I lived with at Uni
D                   C
Not one had a bird I'd rate
Em            G
No fucking way

Then there's a bit scribbled out that says:

Do you have a daughter
Do you have a daughter for me.

And a question mark after it. It's not scribbled out though. I think the letters above the sentences are music. Anyone play any instruments?

More Songs About The Smoker

I went for a walk down the Lagan Meadows hoping I might find a fiver or a tenner lying around. Why is it that I always find some shit like a letter to an ex-girlfriend or some motivational shit someone's written to convince themselves not to top themselves but no one ever drops a nice fiver or a tenner for poor old Tuesday Kid no fucking way.

I came across Panther Man sitting scabbing some drink off The Indie Kid and telling him all these platitudes. It nice the two of them can hook up and bore the shite out of each other from time to time.

When he saw me the first thing he said was; "Have you ever dreamed about wolves Tuesday Kid?"

"I don't remember much about my dreams," I shrugged.

He gave The Indie Kid a look and said "you see?"

The Indie Kid wrote something down in a wee shitty moleskin jotter on his leg.

"What the fuck are you writing about me?" I asked and took the book from him.

The Smoker never dreams
even though he falls asleep
he cannot see the wolves
even in his dreams.

"So those smoker songs are about me?"

The Indie Kid started to blush. I thought now was a good time to scab a tenner off him but he said they'd spent their last money on alcohol for inspiration for songs.

There wasn't enough in the bottle to get me drunk so I wandered home skint and sober.

Sometimes I Stumble and Fall

I was sitting in Charlie's Coffee shop on Bradbury Place when Rock and Roll Stephen walked in. He was with some Rock and Roll girl so when I tried to say hi he blanked me.

I sat sipping my coffee and trying to think about what to do for the day but I couldn't help but over hear them.

"I was cool at school, but no one ever gave me credit for it," the girl who looked to be in her twenties was saying. "I was listening to the Libertines before anyone else."

Rock and Roll Stephen just sat pulling a pose that made him look deep and unconcerned.

"Then they all started listening to them but I'd moved on to other cooler bands," she said, with this big smile like she was finally getting validation.

Rock and Roll Stephen turned to look at her. Then he said:

"I never asked you to understand how I keep myself to myself in the crush of the crowd. But all you can say is 'Who cares? It's part of the deal'".

Then she looked at him all amazed like he'd said something so vital. They didn't really make much sense. I know they're fucking Razorlight lyrics and if she was half the musso she claimed to be she'd know that too. Rock and Roll Stephen said he wrote them and was going to put them in a poem he was writing. Then he went on about how he's a Pete Doherty type and if it wasn't for people like her then the Libertines might have given up and Pete and Carl wouldn't have saved his life.

I really wanted to interupt and tell her that I knew Rock and Roll Stephen back when he was seventeen and used to get turned away from The Venue yet and he used to go home and wank over his ma's club books and get caught and get a clash in the face and a burst mouth and say he got it from fighting with street gangs. Lying wee bastard.

I wanted to say this, but how could I? They looked so loved up and they're both wankers so at least they can be wankers at each other and not fuck up someone decent.