You see kids, Father Christmas isn't real and it's your parents who buy and hide all the presents, and sometimes one might not arrive from Forbidden Planet for a couple of weeks.
It was my Comedian poster that the postman gave me on the doorstep.
It was a very pleasant surprise.
Out of all the Watchmen, the Comedian is my favourite even if he is highly flawed and seen as completely unlikable.
I like him.
Someone might say that I am drawn towards awful and flawed people because I am in some way self loathing and self destructive and therefore I am sabotaging future happiness.
Anyone who says that though is a cock.
I like him as he makes everything all the more interesting, adds more drama and I enjoy his mockery of society.
Sure, he raped someone but that just adds to a better plot.
After putting my poster wall scroll thing up I thought it best to get dressed as I was in the right place for it; my room.
I went next door to the pub with the family.
I'm sure they only stock Corona because of me as no one else there would ever drink it, there all bitter people. I'm very happy that they have Corona in just for me.
Last year I made what I called A Year in the Life of Dan. It was a journal of sorts, and I use the word journal over diary to make it sound more manly. It was huge because if you hadn't of guessed I can ramble on and on and that was increased ten fold because I could write every little thing in my head.
This year I stopped doing it because I don't really need to do it. I'm not setting out to make this a noteworthy year so why should I document every detail.
I also don't want to become a person who is unable to speak his mind without writing it down before hand.
Despite all this it has been hard to not write everything in my head. I do feel like I have lost a limb, or in this case, my tongue.
The first three days were killer. But after that it became the norm to not write.
That is a general rule of thumb for me, three days to get over or adjust to whatever.
I do still sometimes think of things I want to say but can't anymore. I spent a year "vocalising" my thoughts even if it was just to myself.
I suppose I could discuss the more hidden aspects of my life with you.
Like how much it sucks when Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler!
Or how sometimes I Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler! Spoiler!
No, as if I would discuss such things here. The names I could mention could one day read their very names and that would not be cool, not one bit.
You wont be my confident, but don't feel hard done by that because I've never had one and doubt I ever will.
Nope, instead you get to listen to my dilemmas.
Now do I watch my Goo Goo Dolls Live in Buffalo dvd, or Cannibal Holocaust?
Questions, questions.
Oh, wait! I have Parallel World, Parallel Lives to watch.
Then chances are I will watch Cannibal Holocaust as that is up here with me, whereas the Goo Goo Dolls is all the yonder downstairs.
After all that, here's a song for your troubles:
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