So, still following my trend of writing a blog wearing only my boxers, I've now taken to blogging in a room with an acceptable volume of Infected Mushroom coming out of my speakers, and only the dim light from the end of my cigarette, keyboard backlights and computer monitor to guide my fingers to the correct keys. That's two things right there that have been improved upon in my life; smoking in my room & no one telling me to lower the volume of my music. - Of course in the long term, this will lead to fatal lung cancer and a hearing impairment.
So, what's new in my life? Everything. I'm without a job now, which is practical in the sense that my new, infant social life will have the attention required to blossom into a magnificent network of friendship, acquaintanceship and rivalry; but in terms of currency, I am without any. - Relying on a government that cares only about making the rich richer and the poor poorer, it's somewhat universally accepted that my student finance will be more difficult to attain than going on the dole. I don't know. It should be here within a week. Who knows.
Of course, now that I live away from my parental unit, I am expected to wash my own clothes, cook my own meals and do my own washing. I thought this would take a while to get used to, or perhaps even be difficult. Surprisingly, it's somewhat liberating. I know exactly where my clothes are, and I can decide entirely own my own what, and when food is to be consumed. As for the washing, it's a little bit of effort, yeah. But that's worth it when I think that I know exactly where everything is - no more routing through the family linen basket for a T-Shirt.
"Family" - I've come to realise that this is a term to not be designated only for blood-related people. I've lived in this flat of 6 people for 3 weeks. That's just 21 days. And in this time, I've already come to regard my 5 flatmates as brothers. Sure, sometimes one or two of them may get on my nerves, but there's already a constant, underlying care and respect for each of them. I would defend them in a heartbeat, and go out of my way for them if it's required [If any of you fuckers are reading this, I will not do retarded fucking things like walk into town to get you something just because you cba].
Now, my room. The base of operations. My last bedroom has a lot, a LOT of personal history behind it. Weeks upon weeks of sitting around on my computer doing everything, but also doing nothing, pretty much all my closest friends and I have shared many a good time in that room. I thought that a sadness would over-take me when I left home. But in all honesty, everything in this new life is, well, phenomenal. I've got no time to miss anything. Sure, there's a handful of people I miss greatly, but they're just a phone-call away. My new room is pretty much the same as the last, if I'm honest, with a few major improvements; it's not stupidly hot, it's not got an eastern facing window (Meaning I can now sleep without the sun shining through the curtains and waking me up), it's got a DOUBLE-FUCKING-BED, there's tons more floorspace, it's got an even bigger desk, a mirror, en suite toilet/sink/shower, a decent sized wardrobe (Which I've actually taken time to keep organised, and even sort it every time I do a load of washing) and of course, last but not least; a 25mb fibre optic internet connection.
As for the city itself, I've got mixed opinions. 95% good, 5% bad. Meaning I love where I live (Location wise) - I'm a 10 minute walk from the city centre, witch has pretty much any shop I could want (including Forbidden Planet, Game, Primark, Rock/Metal clothing stores etc), I'm a 2 minute walk from an actually decently priced off-license & a Cost-cutter. So, location? Spot on. Moving onto night-life, something Fakenham definitely did NOT have, Coventry is fantastic. There are clubs for Indie/Alternative music, which I actually enjoy. No more "I'VE GOT A FEELING THAT TONIGHT'S GOING TO BE A GOOD NIGHT" being shoved down my throat destroying my precious few brain cells. Tonight, the bar I was in was playing Muse, Beck & The Zutons, amongst other decent bands. There's also always crowds of people. So night-life - excellent. The main thing I don't like about the city is the traffic; for one, I miss tractors. There are none here - huge culture shock for me. And 2) people in Coventry cannot drive, and the roads seem to have been designed by someone who's never been in a car in their life. The merge lane is the same lane as the exit lane on the dual carriageway. It's obscene.
So, the time is now 02:12 on a Saturday morning. I'm not tired, I took 4 proplus at 12:30 thinking that things were about to get good. I was wrong. Let me explain:
Last week, I was handed a flyer on the street, detailing that a music venue/bar in town is holding a night every Friday entitled "Kinky". This venue will be host to 3 rooms: Room one - "One Huge Popcorn Party" The music: "Chart and Ibiza Party Classics". Room two: "Female Strippers" The music: "Indie Hits". Room three: "Male Strippers" The music - "Chill out".
Now, anyone who's ever spoken to be before, even breifly will know which room I went for, so saying which one is pointless, but I'll give you a clue: It wasn't room 1 or 3.
So, the first two hours there were amazing. Sure, the music was a bit to loud and it was a bit to warm in there, but the people that were in there seemed like the sort of people I could talk to, get on with and have a chat with (not that I could over the music). So, whilst pseudo-dancing with my friends, I decided to go on Facebook and text the guys I was with, just to get a little bit of conversation in there. After 2 hours, my ears felt like they were bleeding and my throat was killing me from the attempted vocalised communication (which retrospectively was a mistaken attempt). So, 2 hours in, it's 00:00. The time that the strippers were due on stage. So myself and 3 others out of the group of 7 I was in decided to go to the front where the stage was. Upon arrival, we were almost immediately separated from a large wave of what can only be described as dicks in football shirts. Then the music gradually became less and less Indie, but more Ibiza/Dance. Now this wouldn't have been so bad, if it were not for the 6 and a half foot twat dancing like an indescribably retarded mental health patient right next to me. He was in a group of three Lads (Wheeeyyyyy type ones) with his back to me. He kept taking small steps backwards until I'd completly lost my place, and was covered in his sweat from him pushing me backwards (although it should be noted, that I think this was unintentional of him). After 20 minutes of putting up with this cretinous buffoon making me feel ill from the wretched smell of body odour he was producing at an alarming rate, the music changed into something I don't recall, the stage lit up. Enter mediocre-looking, small breasted, black stripper, wearing a red cowboy hat, red bra and red thong.
It should be noted here that I am immediately turned off by thongs of any kind of a woman. Something about them just oozes "I've had more one night stands than hot meals" in my opinion - it's as bad as when in porn, women refrain from taking off their shoes. It's just a huge no-no in my books.
So, here I am. Being pushed about by this prick next to me, who doesn't have a care in the world, unable even hear my own voice if I shouted at the top of my lungs, covered in the sweat of all those around me and now at a position (admittedly still in the front row) where I was unable to see the whore on stage (sorry, stripper) owing to a massive pillar in front of me. So what do I do? Leave? That's a negative. There's no way I could fight the crowd of desperately horny 19 - 21 year old alpha males that are piled up behind me. So I fucking crane my neck to see what's going on on stage.
Turns out, there was a guy on stage, bent over a chair with shaving foam being rubbed down his arse crack by the stripper with a wet towel. This 19 year old boy is wearing nothing but his underwear, has an erection poking through and is now being spanked with a wet towel by a crowd of about 200 grimy teenage boys.
I was stuck there for 5 minutes, with nothing to do but deal with the pain of being next to a huge speaker blaring out deafening, mind numbing music and watch this "lad" keep grinning and bowing to the crowd whilst being spanked. All I could think was "Why?". Eventually I escaped, rendezvoused with my friends and set off to a proper strip club. Long story short, we got there, one of my friends got turned away because of his trainers and we went home. We're planning to go there tomorrow night in full suits. Fuck yes.
Now, you may think I'm boring after reading that, or stuck up. But I don't think that's the case. I think that there's something to be questioned of any straight male who actually genuinely enjoys being in a crowd of 200 sweaty men, pressing against each other all leering at a barely attractive middle aged naked woman dance about on stage. I believe the word "Sordid" is a fairly apt adjective for this event.
It's now 02:40. I'm still not tired. So I'll keep writing.
Now, I've just realised, I've not mentioned how I seem to be shifting between a selection of both appearance, personality and musical preference since my arrival here. I'm assuming that this is down to the complete change of everything I've ever known. But I'm finding it hard to settle. I'm cycling between wanting to grow back my goatee, wearing nerdy T-Shirts, wearing smart clothes and wearing black nail vanish. For those interested, I think I'm settling on growing my goatee back, keeping the nail vanish and wearing black T-shirts with the odd band one thrown in there now and then; always with jeans.
Ah, of course! Women. I'm notorious for landing myself in the friend zone with every girl I've ever met (bar one, of course). And yes, I've successfully completed this task once more. A re-evaluation of my approach could be considered, but in all honesty, I see no point. At the end of the day, if something is meant to happen, it will. To quote Maynard James Keenan "Gotta wait it out"/"Be patient". My time will come. There is literally no point in getting depressed about this area of life at all. I'd rather have a friend who cares about me than nothing at all. And the girl in question is really quite phenomenal, so the fact I can call her my friend, I can most likely settle with. I was told yesterday by a very, very good friend "Any woman would be lucky to have a guy like you Jacob, and I mean that in all sincerity" - that has done more for me than he could ever imagine. Thank you.
Right, I'm now getting to the morbidly depressing stages of blogging that I don't wish to step on. So I will leave you guys with a thought until the next blog (which you can expect to be soon);
If you had a jetpack, would you use the stairs?
Comment me back either on here, or on my Facebook (Preferably my Facebook).
Goodnight, Internet. I love you all. <3
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