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| Hello there, Well, been a while since I've properly updated so here goes. Aint been up to a great deal really although i did go to my flotation tank session last night. It was really good. I got all panicky before I got there as i couldn't find the right exit form London Bridge station and the map I'd printed had only printed one half. the half I didn't need. Got showed the ropes and settled in to it quite quickly. Felt a bit odd being naked in a strange place at first. I'm not big in to nakedness although i like nothing better than to sit in the evening in my pants. I'm not sure why but I love it. But, I settled in pretty quick. They play music for 10 minutes and then it's 50 minutes silence. The music seemed to go on for ages so I was thinking 'fucking hell, the 50 minutes will seem like an age'. I got an itch on my nose, tried not to scratch it but it was no use, tried to use the end of my nail to scratch my face. thought I was successful but I'd left a tiny droplet on my finger. Off it went, finding its way directly in to my fucking eye. Heavily salted water in the eye is highly unpleasant. Tried to squirt it out but it was no use, had to open the pod, get my towel and fully dried my eye off. Settled back in and I settled a lot easier. So, this is me. Just me. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, very little to feel. Just me. I started doing meditative breathing and it felt amazing. Argh, stop scraping your yoghurt pot (not in the pod, someone at work who scrapes it for ages every fucking day for AGES). The time seemed to pass so quickly, they play music once the session is over and it felt like no time until the music came on. Got out and showered and then paid. Only once outside did it hit me how extremely relaxed I felt. Soooooo, relaxed. Went and caught the train and settled with a book, my legs felt distant and my head all err, numb, in a nice way. Unfortunately I had some fella across the way twanging around with his fucking brolly. Click click, then click click. Again and a fucking gain. I stared across more than once, he stopped doing it each time but then just resumed a minute later. I came very close to saying 'ever thought of buying a fucking book if you're that fucking bored' but he had a weird look about him. that sort of nervy, manic look, like dismember you with a claw hammer while stuttering, twitching and laughing. He got off at ladywell. Thankfully. Had a nice read the rest of the way then popped in to the missuses place as she lives next to the station I was going to. Still felt all weirdly relaxed. it's a very peaceful feeling. Early night, rubbish nights sleep, lots of dreams and nightmares. I want to have the drea where I looked on the whole universe again. please mr.brain, do it again. I'm retouching a posh yoghurt pot today, surprisingly good fun. What's with the advert about those women who are supposed to be sex and the city types when one of them comes back from the shitter to say her turds were alll hard and uncomfortable. in that situation I'd say 'Oh for fucks sake, I might have fancied something to eat in here and I really didn't want to know about you straining and wincing while pushing a nobbly turd out of your arse in the toilet'. But no, one of them gets out a packet of 'stool softeners'. Who uses the word 'stool' anyway, eh? Doctors, that's who. With my condition I get asked it a lot 'so how were your stools' 'how often are you opening your bowels'. Fucking hell, just say it like it is, opening my fucking bowels indeed. Can't wait for '300' on thursday now. | ||
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