» Things we do to fit in

I chose not to choose life. I chose something else.
My school seems to have lacked the hierarchical structure a lot of people are describing. I can’t remember one group shouldering the frigid cross of coolness (unless, could this mean, the cool kid was... me?)

No any sociologist studying T.P.S circa ‘95 would instead have seen a hideously mutating mélange of groups, squads, possies, gangs, mobs, friendly societies, cults and covens, all squabbling over the right to not go home in tears because someone had pushed you in a puddle and thrown your pencil case on the roof.

If you weren’t part of a clique you were a target, it was mob rule, rabid dogs have more compassion than children on a forty minute lunch break. In my second week I knew only one thing, I knew my retainer wasn’t getting thrown in the big green bins again; I had to find some friends.

My horribly rash decision one lunch time lead to me falling in with the wrong, crowd squandering my teenage years, and eventually left me alone and freezing at the side of a dirty brown lake. I was constantly feeling tench, I was on tenderhooks and wondering whether I should pike it all in.

Thats right, I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. I chose fishing. Fucking Fishing!! I spent the years between twelve and eighteen fishing!! I want that time back, I want house parties and teenage sex, I want being tricked into smoking spiffs made of lawn, I want to be able to say that I dabbled, dabbled in anything! I want a collection of pogs, I want to know the dance to the Macarena, I just want to say I’ve lived!

I haven’t picked up a rod in nearly 8 years now, but there’s still not a day goes by where I don’t think about what I’ve lost and how easy it would be to fall back into the comforting old ways.

My name's Asser and I’m a Fisherman.
(Wed 21st Jan 2009, 12:31, More)

» My sex misconceptions

mmm trampy
When I was around 7 or 8 I was walking through town with my mother and we stopped to hear a busker play.

Now this was quite an occurrence for me as I lived in a small rural town and we never had this sort of entertainment. Looking back he was obviously a travelling itinerant; semi vagrant with weird long hair, a beard and strange clothes. But he was strumming away and singing so I was happy.

On our way home laden down with groceries and a copy of The Beano we saw him again. This time he was hunched over in a doorway and was jerking about with a strange look on his face. To my innocent mind it looked like he was in pain so I said to my mother ‘mummy what’s wrong with that man?’

She looked at me fondly, patted my head and said:

‘don’t worry dear it’s just minstrel cramps’
(Tue 30th Sep 2008, 16:49, More)

» My most gullible moment

Selfish?
I’ve convinced my girlfriend I can’t go down on her because I have cold sores (oral herpes)

Really I just wake up early and Ketchup cornflakes to my face.
(Fri 22nd Aug 2008, 16:48, More)