Skills That Don't Pay The Bills.

There have been two things recently that have pointed out to me how little I am writing. One is the lack of any updates on my blog, or on WNV. This is no new thing, I frequently struggle with writing. The curse of the chancer. But I try, and that is the next best thing. There will always be long periods of not doing enough.

The main reason I know I am slacking on the word count is that I have pretty much mastered a new skill. It is an impressive skill, but also testament to the amount of time I waste in situations where I could just as easily be writing. For example, lying in bed watching shite on TV, a great place to write. But it is in bed where I discovered my new talent. Fear not, this probably isn't going to venture down any of the grim roads I go down on Twitter. As far as I know, I'm not going to start talking about wanking or fingering. You can never be sure, but I am fairly certain I won't.

My new talent involves the remote control for my TV. Many people have many varying terms for the remote control for a TV, but seeing as it controls a TV remotely, I have no concern for any other names you may have for it.

This remote control is quite long, and it has a ridge running down the back, at the bottom of which you place the batteries - which should give a hint as to the width of the ridge. You can grab the ridge without holding onto the front part of the remote control. If you know what I mean. Anyway, with enough practice and tenacity you can spin the remote control on the back of your hand by starting the spin with the ridge. This is why I haven't been writing that much. I have been becoming good at this remote control spinning. And it may please you to find out I have become very good at it. I can spin it 3,4 and sometimes 5 full revolutions on the back of my hand. It would be fairly impressive, If I wasn't lying in bed, alone, spinning a remote control on the back of my hand.

In one sense it started as a boredom thing, TV - at the time of night I watch it - borders on insulting. So you lay there thinking "I should write something." You give it some thought, maybe even opening your notebook or computer. You toy with the idea. Then maybe something to do with WW2 comes on and all those good intentions go to fuck because, finally, something worth watching is on. TV wins over late night thinking 80% of the time. This is a fundamental rule any writer should come to terms with. Sometimes, when it's clicking, obviously I run with it. But most of the time it's too easy to convince yourself what you're doing isn't that good anyway and the best course of action is to watch stuff about killing Nazis. Or you convince yourself that you're just forcing it, and no good writing ever came from forcing it. With the exception of Anne Franks Diary. "I'll finish that bit up some other time" never crossed Anne Frank's mind.

Now that I have mastered the art of spinning a remote control on the back of my hand I will need to find a new thing to become the master of. Because if you're not learning something at anyone time, you are not living your life properly. Sure, spinning a remote control on the back of your hand might not be learning Japanese or guitar or something, but I can spin a remote control on the back of my hand better than you can, and that's all that matters in the end.

The Curse of The Super Pretty People.

I for one am glad Samantha Brick spoke out about this great affliction that only a few people, hand picked by fate, or God (depending on your beliefs) to be the truly great looking, the fortunate few who ugly people pass on the street and think "I wish I was that good looking."

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was amazing to look at, I would have a shit load of money. So much money, in fact, that I could probably afford to take massive billboards out all over the world to celebrate my beauty. And the world would sing songs about me. I am that good looking.

Samantha Brick knows the pain that goes with the beauty though, and it's hard to live with because everyone knows you're good looking, and with great beauty comes great misunderstanding. It's not all compliments and dinner parties. A lot of the time we are alone, only a mirror or photographs of ourselves to keep us company. Samantha Brick is lucky, even though she is by far the best looking woman on the face of the planet, or at least that's what I read, she has managed to get a partner. For most of us truly fantastic looking people we are stranded on this planet alone because people assume that just because we are insanely good looking that we are unapproachable.

This curse began at school, where people would taunt me. "Where you off to? Somewhere with other good looking people?" or "Getting lots of good looking girls to suck you off because you're crazy good looking?". It was really hurtful and the school did nothing about it. I got the impression the teachers didn't care.

It has continued, it would seem. All you need to do is read the replies and comments Mrs Brick has recieved in response to her article, people jumped straight on her fantastically feminine and beautiful back about it. Why? Jealousy, that's why.

One day good looking people will be accepted. Maybe even left alone to get on with eating cheese, drinking wine and admiring ones self in the mirror without being ridiculed by ugly people. It isn't Samantha Brick's fault that she was blessed with amazing facial features and a smoking hot body, just like it isn't my fault that I have this insanely well toned stomach and handsome face. If an ugly person wrote an article about how fucking hoaching they are to look at, no one would ridicule them. Except maybe us good looking people, but by and large they would be left alone. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it's just that we have more beautiful eyes than most.

Leave us alone, unless you wish to compliment us on our good looks.