My shoulder’s fucked. Left to my own devises last weekend I think I over capitalised on the opportunity to lift weights. This morning I woke up at seven o’clock ‘fuck, fuck, fucking’. It’s one of those movement pains. Doesn’t bother me unless I move my arm into certain positions then I’m rewarded with a sharp, wincing shock. Consequently I’ve been resting it since Monday.
Living on pain-killers is no way to live and to be honest after six months on it I deserve a break. It’s a nice opportunity to take stock. Since January I’ve increased my bench press by over thirty five percent and my arms by fifty percent but to be fair after half a year day in day out it does get boring.
This gives me an opportunity to catch up on some well needed cardio. I used to be very fit but that has all gone by the wayside of late, opting for mass as opposed to speed and endurance. I’m not going to be getting all that iron up for a while so I’ve got no excuse but to concentrate on movement, back to the good old days, dust off some of those old skills.
Technically I’m still a black belt so yesterday I found a boxing timer on-line and shook off the cobwebs. I’m happy to report I didn’t do to badly. Ten three minute rounds of kicking and punching without to much difficulty or strain, albeit with a lot of sweat.
The way I see it is I can’t not do anything. I have to do something, weighing in at thirteen stone. I can’t allow the middle-age slide to begin. My kicks weren’t bad at all once I’d warmed up. I’m chuffed considering I haven’t done any stretches for 4 years. Surprisingly, today my legs are fine, I expected them to be stiff and aching but no, they’re good. It’s nice to have all those old skills manifesting after such a long break. I’m going to have another crack today and then we’ll see exactly how fit I am.
My Sky’s been cut off. The Girlf has never been good at paying bills but it would seem this one was wilfully neglected. She’s apposed to paying seventy quid a month for something she doesn’t watch. I’m steaming, the season starts in two weeks and I haven’t got Sky sports. I’m debating whether or not to withdraw sexual favours.
We still have all the terrestrials and all the radio stations which I suppose is something. Currently I’m listening to NME radio. It appears someone has plagiarised my youth and is broadcasting it. Green Day, however, have robbed a Stone Roses drum intro so three times over the last two days I thought I was going to get Fools Gold but didn’t. The digital age has allowed radio to turn into a mix-tape. I listened to it for three hours and didn’t hear a human voice once, all wall to wall music. It’s de-constructed to the max and really it makes perfect sense. When you want to listen to music you want to listen to music, all the phone ins and competitions grate.
There are quite a few channels that haven’t been cut-off. I do have all the God channels, a lot of black channels and several paranormal channels. This would be ideal if I was religious, African and stupid. I’ve still got movies4men which is the worst movie channel in existence. It should be called movies-str8-to-video. It’s awful, in the early hours it goes all erotic, or not as the case would seem. Soft core, girly bollocks which I can’t believe has any kind of audience in an XXX internet era. There’s nothing arousing about an eighties mullet.
The internet has led us into a debauched age of pornography and out the other side. I have a severe case of porn apathy. There is far too much choice, it’s gotten completely boring. I come from a world where you could live on a flicker-y, black and white VHS for a couple of years, now I’ve got whatever I want at a click. Subsequently I don’t particularly want any of it. You get to the point where you’re so numb to it you’re making judgements on the camera angles or the set. More than once I’ve found myself ignoring the writhing mass of human flesh and admiring the decor. Those houses are lovely, Californian sun streaming over the pool, through the ceiling high widows and on to the marble laid floor. I don’t care what’s going on the white leather sofa.
There’re some filth bags out there with spectacular homes.
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