Early morning sensibility and yourself. Or early morning, sensibility and yourself.

Welp. Turns out I'm capable of insurmountable amounts of DIY related chaos. This is how the last 20 minutes just played out.

>Inbetween watching movies about 04:15am
>Go for pee break
>Having pee >Notice sealant on the bath could probably do with redoing
>Decide now is as good a time as any
>Finishing pee
>Search first kitchen cupboard - no sign of sealant gun
>Know have seen it somewhere
>Check livingroom cupboard
>Success
>Somewhere in the back of mind have vague recollection of time of day.
>Too excited to care
>Take a moment to combat roll around living room with sealant gun re-enacting Vietnam era battlefield
>Single-handedly take Hill 881
>Return to bathroom
>Make several false starts
>Realise need to take cap off the nozzle
>Go to work.
>Note that sealant smells like salt and vinegar crisps. Temptation to taste almost overwhelming.
>Dab dab, dab dab, dab dab
>Step back and view handiwork
>Messy. But niggling itch satisfied
>Hands covered in sealant
>Try to wash off. Remember why it's called sealant
>Still trying to wash off
>Still washing
>Hands now red
>Washing
>Singing Flight of the Valkyries
>Washing
>Bathroom reeks of salt and vinegar crisps. Now starving
>Washing
>Peel off as much as possible
>Give up and dry hands
>Feel as though have justified two days off work with successful manly points
>Still singing Flight of the Valkyries
>Hands still covered in rubbery sealant
>Cat has sealant on him. Both cat and human confused as to how this occurred
>Assume cat was too stupid to notice it wasn't, infact, salt and vinegar crisps
>Ponder how best to dramatise this in status update/tweet form
>Wash hands some more
>Return to computer
>This
>Still covered in sealant
>No alcohol involved :|

Shoot from the hip.

June 11th 2012.

Still standing.

Calmed down an awful lot these past few months, my thoughts aren't quite so scattered as they used to be. Felt inclined to write something - wasn't sure what though. I feel as though the needle on my compass is starting to ease off it's wild whizzing and starting to point more poignantly to somewhere actually on the chart. Don't get me wrong, it's still bouncing around and doing loop-the-loops but every once in a while it does nestle. Just occured to me where that metaphor came from: Jack Sparra'. No matter, shall keep it anyways.

To put it another way, I'm facing the sun. It's at that point where it's tip-toeing between rooftops. You know - when you can't see shit on your screen because you can't afford an LCD or curtains. For the record I'm still speaking metaphorically. I'd be rather concerned if that was the issue at 22:34. So this is the analogy I'm going with. The sun is flinging death-stars of GRAAGHSHITICANTSEE at me. Because i'm facing the sun. And it's tip-toeing across the rooftops. You follow? My point being in that mire of pointlessness is that it might as well be a rising sun. I can't see a damn thing but I reckon I've got a bloody good chance I'm looking at the start of a new day.

Metaphorically speaking.

So to speak.

It's been a long and arduous weekend of working - give me a break. I'll forgive myself at a later date.

Was watching The Outlaw Josey Wales yesterday. Fancying myself a gunslinger. Call me Andrew Deschain. Sun might be in my eyes now but I can always shoot from the hip. If you get what I mean.

Fuck this convoluted nonsense.

Let's draw.