not wanting to sound rude to anyone...

returning to university, everyone i knew last year seems different and evasive. a bit like something big happened in the summer and i missed a meeting.
  it was probably my fault - i'm probably not the best friend in the world. introverted, bookish, not that talkative and pretty antisocial, i'm not made for talking to people. clubbing is uncomfortable due to all the pressure put on me whenever i go - dance, drink, talk to people, get drunk and buy someone a drink. no, i say! fancy dress? no, fuck off!
 
  alright, it's becoming pretty plain why i'm not Mr. popular. i'm unwelcoming and not easy to talk to. it's not uni people's fault - it's mine.

never mind. despite this, i shall continue to be this way. because it's fun and fitting to me. and i'm probably liked, by a select few. those people - thankyou. very much.

im not angry at the other people. not angry at anyone.

i'll be hiding in the quietest corners of the bookshops, if you need me.

glass bottle got stuck on finger.

i'm not sure what made me do it. but i wanted to see if my finger fit in the bottle.

it didn't.

tried to remove it, with all the strengh i could. after ten minutes, i was quite paniced, and i took my hand, bottle akimbo, outside and placed the bottle and hand on the floor.

i also had my hammer.

tap. tap. tap tap. bang. Smash!

ahh!

the bottle was broken, but still wedged on finger. and thumb cut on glass where hammer hit.  mix of flat cola, rain, and blood.

more tapping, this time around neck of bottle. little bits coming off, and more cuts.

suddnely, success! bottlecap broke in two. more cuts.

i'm one of those people who bleeds quite profusely. dried blood all over hands. got the worst off with kitchen towel and had some trouble applying a couple of plasters.

it was thirsty work. now sitting, watching Derren Brown, typing roughly with plastered fingers. am quite thirsty.

i have a few more colas.

broke another bottle out. good old cola.

I wonder...

A missed train

My train from Blackpool Pleasure Beach had been delayed by half an hour due to a signalling failure at Kirkham.  So when we arrived in Preston, there was ten minutes, instead of the usual forty, until my connecting train arrived.
  At this point, I decided to do something that I had never occurred to me before, something that seemed pointless and time wasting and fun.
  I deliberately Missed my train.

This self sacrificing move left me stranded for an hour and ten minutes in Preston. I wasn't in a rush, and had given myself some time to kill.
  I thought of all the things i could possible do while i was in Preston for this prolonged period of time.
  in truth, i enjoyed my forty minutes break. it made a nice stopper between the two trips, and i could pick up a Nero's and walk to the Waterstone's and back. and i wasn't in any hurry to lose it.
  i thought about all the people you see in their suits rushing for the trains, when they are missing the place they have stopped at. you never know what you might find here. I have only been to Preston properly once, about seven or so years ago, and looked forward to a bigger explore.

I started with a trip to Nero's.

As I was heading there, I thought of all the things I could do with my extra time. I could buy something new, or start a conversation with someone I have never even met!
  But I wanted to start with the norm, so off to Nero's. But I wasn't taking away, oh, no. I sat in. I baught a sandwich aswell.
  I sat eating, smiling to myself at the thaught that I should really be in Leyland by now - the joys of train truancy had started to kick in. I felt slightly special, going against the norm.
  As the train arrived at Wigan, I arrived at HMV. Having not really been to Preston in a while, I was going to stay on the main road, towards Waterstone's. I didn't want to get lost.
  There wasn't much in HMV, so I left, walked to Waterstone's, and went back to the station.
 
OK. So it sounds almost exactly like what I used to do. It was, really, with some small changes. But the important thing is that I wasn't on the train. I had opted for a slow day as opposed to a rushed one. I had done something different form the recommended. Experimenting with society and collapsing train civilisation.
  So when the departures board displayed that the next Train to liverpool was Delayed indefinitely, I was the only one still smiling.
 
  This time I sat in Preston station café - since the train could arrive at any movement, I didn't want to wander off - occaisonally reading NME, drinking a big tea, and writing this down in my notebook.
  The signal failure at Kirkham was still raging on, thus delaying all trains going that way. At the other tables people were phoning their bosses or mates.
 after about half an hour my train arrived, and this time I got on.