...alright, I have something else to say now.
Currently laying on my bed in the hostel and waiting for the Americans to bugger off so I can get an early night.
Whilst waiting I'm pondering their choice of evening entertainment, vis going to a club in nice clothes to listen to bad music, talk inconsequentially and get drunk.
The clothes and associated makeup is superfluous. I just spent 10 minuets watching a girl use her hair iron on a mans shirt because they believe its the height of impropriety to go out wrinkled despite that wrinkles have no effect, other than visual, on the effect of the clothing.
The music they listen to will be loud and be to real music what gravel is to clockwork.
Their conversation will be erratic and inconsequential without reference to any documented information structure.
And drinking kills brain cells and disrupts the biological systems.
And my primal biological functionality is currently howling to tell one of their party that she looks drop dead hot but my higher brain is standing fast with solid reason.
She's a writer. I love the sound of her voice. And she's got a nice body.
But she's not one of mine.
I'm a solider who ignores pain and moves until my muscles stop responding.
I'm a geek who doesn't see the point in clubs and sees vast information structures which are oblivious to her.
She said that I should travel and expand my mind. I argued that what I see and experience at the right end of a keyboard is as rich as those places she's travelled to.
We might as well, as I have suggested in the past, be different species.
I wonder if I'll ever meet one of mine, but of the opposite gender. A predator. A mate. A dragon kin. A women who thinks, acts and fights like me. Gracefully silent, mournfully thoughtful, precisely snappish, firry passionate about pure information rather than so pathetically frivolous.
Probably not. I'm just too strange.
Probably why the world hates me like it does too.
Going to sleep next. I need to be up early to pack my shit up for the weekend.
So long as certain people don't find out what Im doing at present I should be OK for money, despite the stupid cost of the beds here.
These assholes must be making money hand over fist by charging 118 for a bed in an 8 bed dorm room when private accommodation goes for as little as 65 all bills included, if you can pay the deposit.
When I get a little way in the police hierarchy I'm going to look into this.
If you need accommodation in London and can't pay for a deposit for private acom then you're fucked. Especially so because you can't save for a deposit by staying in a hostel which charges 40 pounds over a reasonable rate of 80.
Tomorrow: wake up, pack luggage, check out at 9, go to library to work until 5, grab dinner, and then go find somewhere to sleep outdoors which is out of the rain and wind.
It's not as bad as it could be really. Only really a day out in it. From 5pm Saturday till 10am Monday, and I can spend the day reading Twisted, book 4 of the Iron Druid Chronicles in Waterstones on Sunday. Its summer so it wont be that cold. And I'll have food because Ive still got some and some money. It'll just get a bit boring Sunday night without power to my music player.
Nothing to worry about...unless my benefits money isn't there Monday morning anyway when I need to clean up and get to college to get on with my work...
We'll see what happens...
PS: I don't like self-realisation; the realisation that what I want is to enjoy everything I described above and be spending the night chatting to that women and fucking her.
Especially when its not what 'I' want, that's just the human parasite talking.
What I want is to be in a pitch black glass office high in a building with two Alienware PCs, a pint of Red Bull, C++ code on one screen, 24 Live Another Day on the other, and feeling like I could work out God's own design of creation shawn of mortal flesh.
The latter is me. Humanity is the poison.
