How Proud We Are

So I've been a fight fan for about 10 years, and there's nothing better than seeing an Irish boxer doing well.

At this Olympics, our tiny country won 4 medals. That's almost 1 per every million. Basically our fighters are 1 in a million.

I cried my eyes out when Katie Taylor won her gold. She blasted the glass ceiling off the world of fucking boxing, and I love her.

Who inspires you?

Love,
Con

'The Cave Dweller', or 'Whatever happened to the last few Years?'

 Harumph.

So I haven't blogged in a while, a long while. Yesterday, I happened to click into my bookmarked pages, and this bloggo came up, and I shamefacedly had a look.

Nothing. Nothing happening at all. It was about as much fun as a 'Make a Wish' daytrip to Chernobyl, and not even half as entertaining. I looked over at the section marked 'The Past' and was surprised to see:
2011 (3)
2010 (42)
2009 (78)

Not even a single post from 2012 - how terrible.

My little blog had gone from being a (hopefully) funny and well-written online journal, to a dirty, festering, stinking, lethargic pile of shite; lazy and insignificantly dull.

In the last two years, I more or less gave up on the whole blogosphere heart-on-sleeve approach to writing, and tried to write a book. Also, I got a girlfriend, a real life one this time, and the relationship soon surpassed my previous record of 9 weeks. I soon got involved in the trivial and wonderful aspects of having a lady-woman to report to, part of which probably meant quitting from divulging my shameful, drunken antics to internet strangers, and I 'settled down'. Yuck.

Anyway, I'm still with the lovely woman (she's a mad Jewess with curly hair and a wicked sense of humour) in our little cave that we share in Fulham, and I'm still writing my book, which is about a crazy man, but I'm happy to return to the Pizza Box and pick up where I left off.

One reason for this turnaround is that I have no memories from the past two years, and very few from the past three or four other than the ones I can glean from Facebook, the photos saved to my harddrive, and past posts here. Seriously, hardly any at all!

I lived in a bit of an insomniac, drunken haze since I moved back to Ireland from the USA, and I stayed in my little shadow world thereafter, until a few weeks ago when I had a sudden moment of awakening and found to my horror that I was 25, and sleepwalking through my life. I had ballooned in weight, was seeing a shrink, had taken to sleeping all day during the weekend, and went for days at a time without speaking. When I did speak, it was either to snap or bark at someone, or rasp sarcastically. I had gone from being a cheerful sort of chap to becoming a bit of a cunt. I'd even fucked my career up! I was supposed to be a lawyer, remember? But I can definitely recall being invited not to continue my career with the firm I was supposed to work with. Good job, Conbot.

Years had passed, and I had lost the way of myself a bit and woke up to the great hangover of the truth that I had missed at least four years of my life. My personality had completely changed, and I had no idea who I was. I'm sure there are people I knew when I was younger who wouldn't even recognise me.

It's bizarre, I rummage through my bureau in my room, and find the manuscript to a novel I've been writing and it's 60,000 words. I have only vague memories of writing a lot of it, and have had to rediscover the characters and the plot.

Other things are harder. I saw a picture of a friend of mine on Facebook, a girl from University. She and I were 'rather close' then, and I can barely remember more than a few glimpses. Not even the bad stuff, which I'm sure was abundant (if she was hanging out with me!)

So I contacted a load of my friends and gave them the skinny. I had fallen off the radar and plummeted headfirst into a large quagmire of shite and doubt, changing from a happy scamp into a hairy recluse man. I asked those friends I could remember to help me by loaning me some of their memories, and that's why I'm back.

Over the next few weeks and months, I'll post what these friends reply to me with, and try to add my own memories of what they mean to me. It'll be as new to me as it will be to any of you suckers who stick around to read.

At best, I might get some memories back and maybe rebuild my blog. At worst, I'll chase what remaining followers I have into the ocean.

We'll see.
C