life is what you make it

it is 10 31 pm and I just came back from a quick walk to the off licence to buy a can of beer. i am not yet ready to go to bed. some of the kids are still awake. on the way I sang a song of life's a bitch  a big fat bitch. I hated all humans that passed, seeing them as bitch's whores. on the way back i saw a neighbour who lost her husband to a blood cancer over a year ago. can in bag i saw her and gladly hugged her. we hug from time to time. I told her i was pissed (as in angry) and fed up with kids she told me 'they keep you young.... ' I told her 'life is a bitch, it is hard and long' she told me 'life is what you make it'.

as far as i'm concerned, it's still a bitch but i have a whole lot of making to do.
got to remember, live in the minute. breathe in, breathe out. relax.

depressing blog

my son tells me it is depressing. it fucking is.

nervous breakdown

tonight I have my son 14, my nephew 7, my daughter 5, my niece 4, my son 18 months my 'husband' (we're not married) and me losing it altogether. My niece wants her mum. my son 18 months has insomnia, my nephew is awake and my daughter is suddenly hungry. I have had enough. Next week I am going on holiday courtesy of my aunt in law 87 years. My 'husband' says he cannot come he needs to work to pay the rent and bills. so, that is me, my son 14, my nephew, my daughter 5 and my aunt in law. bring on the joy. bring on the agony.  Liz Jones thinks she has it bad....
i cannot describe the day to day anguish of in a relationship single parenthood, poverty- working to purely pay the bills  and general pain and discomfort. I mean sometimes it is OK I can handle it but sometimes it is like treacle walking or water boarding. and i say that guiltily, but sometimes it is painful.
i do not know how i do it and yet i don't i am just carried along in the rushing tides of each wave.
long out breath.

white noise

apparently I broke the oven by covering the ham with greaseproof paper instead of foil- which we had run out of. apparently it set fire to the rubber thing that held the glass inner plate in which has now fallen out. balderdash, it must have take a few months for that to erode. but never mind. this is translated to me at low level tone by significant other through one or maybe two walls while I painfully epilate my underarms. somehow the blistering shots of mini pain as the epilator pulls the hairs out rapidly is preferable to the full sound of his incessancy. the gentle acrimony of everyday life.

that was this morning before the trip to Footscray meadows where the windy summer's day was punctuated with whines and whinges of small children with a field to play in but who would prefer to play in very close proximity to me...stepping on me, almost clawing at me as i seek a moment of repose. Though actually they did paddle in teh stream and it was quite lovely watching them roam the meadows when they weren't on top of me.

so the oven is broke- a symbolic domestic nightmare which is a bit like the last straw. I will at some point contact the insurance people and go through the monotonous questions to replace it.

I am home now following a further argument about which way to drive home and then whether to stop off at family for a good supper and glass of wine or go home to watch sport (not me) carry on with domestic monotony and eat substandard take away. we go with the second choice and the cloying grease of a lazy chicken shop delivery service still sits uncomfortably in my throat.

at Footscray meadows I saw a couple canoodiling. they sat upon a bridge sharing berries from a plastic tub. legs swinging.
later as I sat with my family I saw them again passing by, they stopped to share a kiss, then went on. will it last I thought? or end in itchy annoyance and cloying discontent. will she have children clutching at her legs as she goes about her way or will they revel in youthful sweet love for eternity. who knows it is all relative anyway.

I have nothing much more to report. it is all to mundane and exceptional all at once. and so for now goodnight.

one long day at the olympiccs

we got there late after I discovered I had lost my debit card. we had no cash. shit. my mum sweetly dropped us off- me and son 14yrs and lent me , in fact gave me, 30£. fucking hell. we got there after 9am, late, - having dropped daughter 5, nephew 7 and baby 1, off with darling sister in law- who now has a migriane.
first a coke retailing usually at £1 15 max was a flat £2.50. having not eaten breakfast and blithely hoping for a five pound breakfast, we purchased the cheapest food we could find- at £3 a go  croissant with mozzarella, tomato and spinach of the meanest proportions- small croissant small everything, and one with ham and cheese.....she passed it over with unashamed greasy fingers with bits on and I was so hungry and slave to that, that I took it and ate it gratefully.
A shit coffee priced on the board as £1.70 was another £2.50. two coffees and one hot chocolate down plus a coke and shitty rocky cake which tasted like shit and we were 12.50 down, plus two tiny croissants made £18.50 down. tobacco and a twix and water -pre olympic arena was £5 down -that is £23.50 down. starving by 2pm we got 1 small portion of greasy fish and chips £8.50 which we devoured while watching the rifle finals (boring- we couldn't see a thing) around us people munched on big fat rolls, sweeties and beer. by this point I was desperate for alcohol. a plastic bottle -small- of heineken lager was priced £4.50. I had £1.80 left. oh shit. so I sipped on my water while watching thousands of clay lumps get shot out of the sky. neighbouring Olympic visitors removed fifty's from their wallets and purchased ridiculous amounts of over priced shit coffee and plastic bottles of beer while I hoped someone would buy me one. they didn't, and my searching for dropped fivers ended negatively.
it was okay, but long.
the entire thing was a rip off and little did I know that I could probably have brought food in but never mind, next time aye!
Croatia beat Australia which was liberating since Australia was favourite to win. Italy came 2nd in the shot gun finals and Kuwait third. GB were out pretty early cause he kept missing. but it waws OK. it was nice watching an old Italian man and a young Italian boy in bright green (they were unrelated - I was watching) hold up together a large wind swept Italian flag while the medals were awarded.
we went to the Olympics and then I got back to the kids and there were dramas afoot. I am now shattered and on the verge of a constant nervous breakdown so good night.

i have a comment whoopppee

ok so this is really sad, but someone has actually commented on a post, and world, i feel a little less lonely. it was on a blog i wrote which mentioned bukowski the writer so i suppose i have him to thank for linking me with another human on here.

tomorrow i am watching shooting shotgun stuff at the Olympics. i hope i can buy a coffee followed by a pint. i think it may be dull but i can't wait to go.

i am half way through a nice bottle of pinot grigio. nice and cold and dry. the kids are watching bolt on tv- aka the Jamaican runner and i am looking forward to their bed time coming up shortly.

i had reiki yesterday and i think i am messed up as it left me bedraggled and exhausted, i sat still for 20 minutes or so and was 'healed' or something. i thought of my sister and felt strange heaviness as  a lovely lady put her hands about me.

so long ......

lots of birthdays

it has been a weekend of birthdays.... my son had two friends celebrating yesterday and my daughter one today... what was lovely was how the parents of the birthday children had wine flowing freely and generously.
on another note I have decided that in my driving experience there are some old gits in existence. i have always tried to err on the side of tolerance to humans but i have now decided there are lots of old redundant males who hate young women.
can't write any more cause kids are all over me like a rash.