Taxi Drivers. Curious people..

Stephen: Busy tonight?

Taxi Driver: Aye, well.. naw. No really. Well, when a say no really, its been raining and its been causing a bit of floods so naw. No really busy big man.

Stephen: Okay. One of them nights then?

Taxi Driver: Aye. Workin the night then?

Stephen: Yes, my liver. Working it overtime with fine red wine.

Taxi Driver: Yer no fae Edinburgh are ye?

—- ( This is the point where I now try to become cold and slient ) ————-

Stephen: No. Ive been always here. Forever here. Today, yesterday and tommorow.

Taxi Driver: Fair doos.

—— ( I have shut him up ) —————–

Taxi Driver: A wis reading aboot the Blair wan saying we are all doomed. Like in oor lifetime.

Stephen ( Becoming interested ) Oh yeah. Its old news that. 20 years too old.

Taxi Driver: Aye. We is gonna see disasters. Flooding. Dae ye know what that means big man?

Stephen: No?

Taxi Driver: Mere fuckin immigrants!

——————

Oh god, another racist taxi driver. I love Taxi Drivers. Yes I do. The non racist ones.

——————–

The conversation became rather one sided and I shut off until the following:

Taxi Driver: Its awright fur Bush n company. They have special spaceships in which they can escape intae space if sumthing bad happens tae the climate. There is space stations fill of plants tae make oxygen so they can live long.

—————————-

I have a week off, so I decided to have a seriously lazy weekend reading books and playing Football Manager 2007. Within a short space of time I ( using the managerial pseudonym Sir Wilfrid Winterbottom ) guided my team to a domestic treble within my first season in charge. As I wished to be a club legend I resigned and took charge of a lowly English Conference team. Its not working out and regardless of my track record, I’m due to be sacked if I lose my next game.

–
I was on the bus on Saturday when an old man who was drunk shouted to a little girl about six years old who was traveling alone ( SHOCKING! ) that ‘ If I hear you pimp again I’ll chop yer fuckin hands aff ‘

For readers who are not used to Glaswegian: The drunk told the girl not to break wind or something bad might happen to her.

Glasgow can be a strange place. Not one passenger said anything, not even the pensioners and pensioners on buses are usually the first people to say something to drunks or people who shout swear words.

—

Finally, I have received some emails regarding an update on the life of Glen Michael. I do not work at the same place as him anymore so I cant help and lets respect Cecil’s privacy!

Ive been really busy so I have not had the chance to blog, sorry!

Yesterday, I bade farewell to my workplace over the last year to go to something a lot better financially as a wage slave during the day. At 10:26am yesterday I left my desk to go to the local supermarket to purchase a tin of dog food. It was not for a dog nor was it for myself.

I returned to my desk and placed the tin on my desk, where it will remain for quite some time. Okay readers, I would like your theories as to why I left a tin of dog food on my desk at my last day at work.

I’m bored. I have been bored for several days now.

Things have changed so much in a short space of time. My quiff has gone, I am financially comfortable, pretty happy for the first time in a long time, I enjoy being a social butterfly, music is slowly but surely coming together and people are attracted to my white shoes. Its not the ideal life for me, but it will do for now. My life is full of voices that care and for the most part contribute to this new era.

The other night I heard a voice again - a musical voice but not my own. It was a voice that belonged to an old life of quiffs, being a financial miser, being a procrastinator, and just being pretty much aloof towards all sorts of people for no true reason whatsoever.

This voice belonged to that era. It was a voice whose owner was very close to me, but now so, so distant I am a stranger and vis versa.

She was always a great singer when I knew her, so talented. I heard her voice again and the talent has became super talented. I should be proud of her. No, actually I am proud of her and wish her all the good things that will come to her.

Her voice always used to make me smile, but now it made me cry like a big jessie. It brings back emotions buried deep within me, and memories that I thought were no longer raw. Some of them still are it seems if I cry when I hear her singing again. ( even though it was good to hear her ) That is not good but I will wake up one day and those emotions will be totally eradicated. Its the time towards that day that can be annoying.

Listening to her singing again I realized something: She found her voice a long time ago, and Ive still yet to find mine. Without my own voice I am and always will be.. nothing.

I hate being a creative person, but I will never accept being a wage slave..