Diary Without Pages

Trivia I find Ignored


It’s a Maybe

So maybe I haven’t been the most devoted writer in the world. Maybe I haven’t been the one good thing to ever happen to the world of blogging. And maybe I haven’t been here since – well – forever. And maybe – just maybe – that’s true. But that doesn’t mean its the end of the world, plenty of people are like that, plenty aren’t. Who’s to say who’s better. Maybe they have a life. Maybe they have better things to do than moon over a keyboard all day and night.

Maybe you’ll object to that, claiming that it doesn’t take much to maintain a blog. Maybe I’ll listen, or maybe I’ll wave away your objections, simply because I can. Maybe I’ll say you don’t know me, you don’t what I’ve been through, you don’t know anything about me! Maybe I’ll throw a tantrum to prove my point, maybe I’ll put a foot through the T.V., bang my head against the wall – and jump off the roof while I’m at it. Or maybe I won’t act like a little bitch. Maybe I’ll listen to what you have to say and think on it. Maybe I’ll turn my life around and become a better man, a better son, a better brother, a better father to the son I may or may not have. And maybe I’ll stop beating the wife I haven’t married. Maybe I’ll listen. Maybe I’ll start a charity for gorillas with one leg, gain worldwide recognition and become the hero I was always meant to be. Who’s is to say, maybe you’re right …

But then again, maybe I just don’t give a shit.

I do. I do.

Give a shit that is. Don’t believe me? I’ll have to set up a cam – or a recording? Your choice …

All else aside, it has been a while, though that’s putting it mildly …

Half an year.

I’ll take a moment to think on that … maybe …

Or an hour.

Or a week.

Or another half an year.

Either way, its a maybe …


1 Comment

Flash. Bang.

Look dude, you got money, I get that. But you don’t rub it in just for kicks. Its rude. I mean 6 flashbangs?!! come on!!

Necessity’s a bitch.

You just made that up.

The sentiment stands.

My ass it does. You let a man see you when you’re ripping his throat out.

You just made that up too.

We’re even.

If anything you should take it as a compliment. Your opponent is so afraid of your ferocious combat skills he can’t dare let you see him.

I might just get a kick out of that.

… or maybe you’re just a whiner … whatever fits.

Me? Whine? You’re on bro.

No snipers.

No flashbangs.


Uh … listen …

I gotta go.

Classic whiner.

No, I really gotta run.

Seriously? dude I spent like 8000$ already.

I’ll bring chips.

Oh well … See you Saturday, then … it was a pleasure killing you.


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… Damn!

So maybe the camp’s not all it could be. But at least its there, right? That’s a definite plus. Kids here are sweet. They play, eat and sleep like babies – gorilla babies. Jerry in particular is just adorable, he positively adores the cats, the other day I found the little tyke’s food sprawled all over the cat’s bowl – along with some bile. Some would say that’s just little Jerry being a jackass, I say I hated the cat anyway. How very thoughtful of him.

The word around the camp is that there will be someone from the government paying us a surprise visit. I don’t know what to think. Maybe he’ll be blind, and deaf too just for the heck of it. God, I hope he’s a he, a she is just too much to handle. But then again maybe he should be a she. A she with a shotgun. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll shoot me. I wonder what a shotgun wound looks like. I imagine its something like the head of a watering can. Scratch that, too disgusting even for my taste.

So, the government guy came and went. Stupid fart, he was. but then again I should have guessed; they all are. Couldn’t tell Jerry apart from Jeremy or Julia for that matter. You’d think the braids would give him some idea. But apparently, a little too subtle.

He couldn’t find anything wrong. Maybe it was the weather; or the smiles on the cute round faces that made his mood lift. I go with the weather. But all’s well that ends well. And this didn’t end well. My win.

Oh yeah, before I forget. People probably aren’t as stupid as I make them out to be, I tend to exaggerate. But if you believed even one word of this post … I mean, come on, the three J’s should have given you an idea. I’m not saying that you did believe it, but if you did … Well, then … Damn!


Snowy And The Goldfish

Oi! Did you hear?

I did.

You did?

I did.

What do you make of it then?

Must be true.

You think?

I do.

But that can’t be right.



I think it can.

It can?

It can.

How come?

Its obvious.

It is?

It is.

You know Valerie?

I do.

You know her son?

I do.

The goldfish?

What goldfish?

The goldfish.


You heard me.

Oh, you mean that goldfish.

I do.

What of it?

Well, you know snowy?

I do.

He had his eyes on that goldfish.

He did?

He did.

Then what?

Well Valerie was out that day.

She was?

She was.

I still don’t get it.

Well, you know the son has toys.

He has?

He does.

You mean the duck?

Yup, the toy duck.

You don’t say.

I do.

Old snowy wasn’t that stupid.

He was.

He was?

He was.

Choked to death did he?

That’s what the vet says.

It is?

It is.

Poor dog, I feel sorry for him.

Me too.


The Happy and The Stupid

The storm subsided. The tornado moved on. Like all things in this world, it has come to an end. Life is beautiful once more …

Now, that the accursed annuals are behind me, the grass is greener, the air sweeter and when I’m not sweating like a pig, the sun almost symbolizes hope. Freedom, sudden and absolute. Its a divine feeling. One you can’t compare.

But …

I’m cheery. I am cheery. No, you do not understand. I am cheery.

All. The. Time. Which is not like me. Oh no, not like me at all. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Because “me” isn’t all that high a standard to begin with.

Although thinking long term, maybe the not-like-me thing I’ve got going right now isn’t all that perfect. I’ll have to stop before I say something so stupid, something so incredibly cheesy, so nauseatingly corny that whole new levels of cheesiness would have to be defined – because that’s the feeling I have.

There. Now wasn’t that like me?


Blocked and Stopped

In the last ten days, I’ve not written anything. Various reasons, exams chief among them. But that is done and finished.

So, I return to my usual practice. Only, its damn hard now for some reason. Ideas for the next post are there, nagging at the back of my mind. But my brain, for some blasted reason, is refusing to function. Like a virtual standstill, only, it’s not virtual.

Let me break it down for you. I am sitting here, in front of the computer. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I write a sentence. Two sentences. Halfway through the third …

Halt. Backspace. 

I write again. Backspace. I grit my teeth. I write a whole paragraph, pleased with myself – for a minute. Standstill. 

It’s not a writer’s block. Nothing like that. I had one of those once. This is different. I know what to write and how to write. My mind approves, but when it appears on the screen. It just seems … wrong. Out of place. Like gold embroidery on a toilet seat.


A Wise Man’s Tale

Once there lived a wise man.

He was wise, no denying it because if the author said so, it must be true. That’s the rule, you take his word for it.

He was wise, wiser than any of you. Believe it! 

So, one night the wise man was sitting in a pub.

Now, why would a wise man do that. There must be a very deep, very thought provoking, very attention worthy, very mystic reason behind it. I mean, wise men don’t just sit in pubs.

Unless …

He was there to eat …

What?! He was, he actually was?!!

Not your average wise man, is he? But we’ll humor him for now …

He told a joke.

Seriously? Are you friggin’ kiddin’ me? I let the pub one pass, but this is just rubbish. He told a joke!. Was there no philosophies left in the world to ponder on. no brilliant plans for the greater good, no theories about Justin Bieber’s gender. No? Nothing?

OK, I’ll let this one slide too. Go ahead. Knock yourself out.

Everyone laughed.

Well, Duh!

What were they supposed to do? Roll over and die?

Come to think of it, I’m feeling like that right now, so that’s not such a long shot.

When they laughter died out, he told the joke again.

Keen to spread a few smiles around, huh? Well, good for you wise man. Good for you. When are you gonna hang yourself?

Soon? I thought so…

Few people laughed.

Were they laughing at the wise man, or were they just stupid?

The wise man told the joke for the third time. Much to the disapproval of the crowd. Not a single laugh was heard.

Were there swords involved? Daggers? Artillery? Anything?!!

Come on! my hands are getting itchy just thinking about it.

The wise man said,”When you can’t laugh at a joke again and again, why oh, why do you cry at the same sorrow over and over again?”

Well, what do you know. The wise man’s wisdom finally came through. now all that’s left is to show the guy some real pain. Let him contemplate some sorrow for himself. Let him show us how to deal with sorrow.

Folks, are you ready?

Knives, on my mark.

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