Eben

Well, I've written the first part of my date up on my 20six site, and as such I'll not repeat it here.

What I will tell you is that the date went very well, we met up, had lots of alcohol and a scrumptious meal, shared a few kissess, and she invited me back to hers, which I declined on account of both going to work today, and on account of it being the first night we'd met!

Still emailing her today, and we've arranged to go for (get this) some Ice Skating! How cheesy. :-D

Keith (I'll let you know some other details later.. ;-) )

So, readers of the other blog will already know that something's going on this weekend - but not fully what.

I met someone on uDate, and in one crazy mixed up conversation, I managed to ask said same someone for a date. I'm going to run through what happened here: (this is an approximation of the conversation)

Her: I really like your outfit on the second picture...
Me: Thanks! You should see that shirt close up, it's got a lovely floral pattern in feignt purple..
Her: It sounds really nice!
Me: Er, I sound really gay there, don't I?
Her: Yeah, you do a bit.. LOL :-D
Me: Well, I can assure you I'm not.. in fact if you'd like, I'll willingly prove it to you ;-)
Her: What do you mean?!
Me: Er... Um... I'd meet you for a date?
Her: Sure!
Me: WTF Just happend?

So, Sunday I'm going to Derby in the most stupid route ever - Thanks to the rail-service performing upgrades in Stockport, I have to do the following:
Stockport->Manchester (bus)
Manchester->Sheffield (train)
Sheffield->Derby (train).

This. Is. Silly.

But potentially lots of fun.

Keith (Doesn't stop me bricking it, though)

The most crazy thing I've ever done before now is documented over here, but to keep you reading this, the premise was this - I went to London to visit two people I'd never met before, and they proceeded to pay for my accommodation, clubbing, food and other things. In return they asked nothing at all.

I've been feeling a complete lack of confidence recently, and it was quite hammered home on Saturday, as I failed to go up to loads of interesting people and talk to them, where once previously I would have talked to them all. (Bear with me here, it looks like I'm digressing, but I'm going to bring this back on target)

The other day, after my 'Dating Agency' admission, it seems that one of my friends, whom I had forgotten I'd given this link to, took umbrage at me being on a dating site:
"OK, stop with the dating agency, it's for sad people with no personality, u hav personality and ur a nice lookin guy, go make use of it dammit!"
Only trouble was, my friend had forgotten to tell me who it was, and I'd lost that number a while back.. A quick text later told me who it was, but for a while there, I felt the thrill of someone I didn't know, but who knew me!, getting in contact and, for that matter, scalding me!

Well, ideas started to form in my head - classic ideas - crazy ideas, all thrashed through my head at breakneck speed. I thought of my current lack of confidence, and decided in a split second that my solution should be a blind date. That date would force me to talk to someone I had no idea about, and thus put me in a win/win situation. It doesn't have to be me trying to find the love of my life - it's just a first date, after all!

Then the biggy hit.

My friends are resourceful people, who have other friends. My friends are sure to have at least one person between them who might actually want to go on a blind date with me - but how to achieve this? The answer brought me back to the school of pay-it-forward, just like the friendly Londoners, I would pay for the whole adventure - that way it was a no-risk date for the date-ee, and I could make it clear from the start what was happening, thus avoiding those awkward after-dinner moments involving splitting the bill. I would also buy the person who introduced me to my date-ee, a bottle of nice champagne, as an incentive and a 'thank you for sorting this out'.

I texted some friends, and emailed some others, and I'm pleased to say that I have two tentative 'yes-es'.

Once I've finalised the dates, I'll tell you more about it - but until they're final, I'm still open to suggestion, and help.

The Rules:
The Date-ee must be female, single and between the ages of 21-29.
The Date can happen anywhere in the UK (so I'm not excluding Rich Americans/Canadians on holiday here! Hey, it might happen!) [addendum: If a rich foreigner wants to fly ME out them, this rule can be broken!!]
I will pay for some drinks before we go to a restaurant and have a nice meal, which I will also pay for, and then some more drinks afterwards - of course, the date-ee doesn't have to stay for any of this if she doesn't want to - it's totally up to her.
The Date-Assistant gets a bottle of Champagne (or some nice equivilent if they aren't in to thier bubbly) by way of a thank-you.
The Date-ee can bring any number of chaperones, but for heaven's sake, keep me un-awares of them - please? :-D - I read a very funny anecdote on internet dating recently, and one poor girl brought a couple of mates, who were completely by her side the whole date through, giving no time/space to the dating couple. Needless to say it was a disaster.

Keith (So people - any more suggestions?)

Ok - time to come clean: I registered for an online dating agency.

OK - I can see you all leaving in droves now - yes, yes, I am sad and lonely ;-) - Only, it turns out that there are quite a few other sad and lonely types out there, too.

Well, there would be - if they'd ever bother replying to my 'whispers' (an Instant Message by any-other-name). It seems bizzare to me that there are people out there who register for these things, pay good money every month, and then just don't talk!

So, consequently I'm still lonely, and £15 a month worse off...

Keith (Surely someone out there has a friend who'd be up for a date?)

PS - all offers greatfully received..

Just had a musical clubbing "hands in the air" moment to Cygnus X's Orange Theme...

The problem? I was at work.

Keith (Now, how much do you think it will take to bribe everyone to let them know I'm not mad?)

I don't often do this, but I feel strongly that you guys aught to read this too:

Memories come flooding back

Despite having a reasonable weekend (Playing cards, helping decorate, fixing PCs) I was a bit upset to find out about the death of one of my old online friends. beN was a lovely guy whom I met only once, when I arranged a meet of people who were on a talker I frequented called Zeta Aquilae.

It was while I was browsing around for memories that I found these photos from that very meet in Sheffield: Link to Photos

That's how I looked before a haircut saved my life.

The great thing about these photos, and the others that I came across, were the memories that they brought back and the general sense of fun of my talker days. I spent a _lot_ of time online back then (I once spent 12 hrs sat in front of a computer, doing nothing but chatting to people) and the meets that we had with some of the people around were fantastic fun - I still remember meeting Menace for the first time in Liverpool, when the Manchester branch of Solent View met up with the Liverpudlians. There was an excellent game of "I've Never" (the fabulous drinking game where someone says something, and everyone who HAS done that thing drinks - fabulous fun when you get a few people who know each other very well, and some that don't) followed by clubbing, drinking and erm.. I can't remember too much more due to imbuing too much of the old amber nectar...

Then there was the dinner party I attended in Bath, just round the corner from Anthony Stewart Head's
house (you know, him from the Nescafé ads, and Buffy and Stuff) - full dinner jacketed affair, with intellectuals brimming from every corner. Fine wine, fine food, fine people.

These memories and more kept me from sleeping on Saturday night, and frankly, I want to go back and see some of the fabulous people I've met in the past, before any more of them slip through the net. I feel like I've been lax in meeting up with old friends, as well as meeting new people too... so - who wants to come to Manchester for a big meet up?

It doesn't matter if you're on Livejournal, 20Six, An old Talker friend, A Uni Friend, or just someone that reads this blog for entertainment (I know, it's been a bit lacking of late), I'd like to meet you!

Keith (Now, the where and when..)

It's been a while. And anyone who knows me knows what's going on, what's happend and why.

And if you don't know me, you aren't going to see the details written here - if you do want to know the ins-and-outs of my break-up, just ask. Suffice to say it makes interesting reading ;-)

It's about 4 Months ago that it all happend - and in the typical duality of such things, it both seems that almost no time at all has passed, while simultaneously seeming like the world has been spinning at twice the rate.

But I'm feeling better. A lot better. I have a new job (one that I'm doing for me, and not for a Temp company), and a healthy re-interest in blogs again to keep my mind away from everything else.

Time to be positive again.

Keith (Apparently, if you smile, the whole world smiles with you...)

My usual Magic-ing venue was closed last night (the UMIST bar), and as such, my compartriates and I trooped up the road to "Retro Bar". Why it's called Retro, I don't know. The place is either above or below (I don't know which) a death metal/punk club (which was closed last night) so when I went to the loo, I spotted a lot of crap graffiti - some were the usual "Stop the War" crap, others were "Phone this number for Gay Sex" but this one stuck out:

"Some come here to sit and think,
Others come here to shit and stink,
Some come here to scratch thier balls,
But only wankers read the walls."

I also found out that the Poker Chips I bought for L for Christmas, make exceptional Magic tokens (albeit large), and by a sheer fluke, we happen to have bought White, Blue, Black and Red chips - Mmmm.. there's space in the box for 100 More Chips - Green's a possibility - but what colour for Artifacts?

I'm so pleased!

I managed to take delivery of L's Christmas present at work today - Its a set of 100 Poker Chips (Suit Marked, to match the 100 she already has) and a nice case to hold them all in.

L's current batch has 25x Black, 25x Blue and 50x White, and this pack has 50x Red, 25x Blue and 25x Black, to make it up to 50 of all of them.

Best of all, is that the box is going to be small enough to sneak across in my luggage when we go to France for Christmas in less than 2 weeks time!

We're flying from London Stanstead on the 21st and staying until the 6th of Janurary, so with any luck, the two weeks will give me enough time to get used to French again, and just about get 'passable' before coming home ;-)

Keith (But Shh!! It's a secret!)

Thanks to everyone's tireless and hardworking Rodent, theferrett, my 20six blog (ie the one that actually gets updated regularly!) has been syndicated over to LiveJournal.

The more people read it, the cheaper in Syndication Points (Paid Users get 15, Free Accounts get 0.99) it is to read. When I subscribed to it, it was down to 0.64 of a point.

You can find it at http://www.livejournal.com/users/spraggfeed/.

And if you like it - well, best say a quick thanks to theferrett for going to the trouble of sorting it out!

Keith (Nice one!)

Anyone who has read this sporadic journal will know of my friend who scared the shit out of me.

He's managed to confront his Mum with the list of 'crimes' (for want of a better word), and has managed to produce a stunning series of 3 blogs. Yes they're long, but please, PLEASE read them.

Part 1 - Prelude to a phone call
Part 2 - Phone call
Part 3 - Aftermath

Geez.. Harsh isn't the word for it.

Keith (Another day in the continuing saga..)

My Girlfriend is a very possessive lass - She struggles to be anything but worried by other people, and today, I finally have proof:

Blog Crush is an anonymous 'service' for people to post cunning clues as to who they fancy. The link takes you to a discussion that people are having about me (whee!!)

About half way through, Purple mentions that she's posted it in my blog (over Here), and as you can see, about half way down, Ell comments: "And that's why I didn't want you to put your picture down but as all I'm saying is rubbish...
Anyway, if you were playing it fair, you wouldn't delete comments."

The deleted comment was purplephreak saying "Eben and Blogcrush Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..", which I figured would trigger L worse.

Keith (It's all just so infuriating!)

I posted this on my 20six blog, but I liked it so much, I thought I'd share it with you lot..


It being freshers week this week, I started thinking back to my uni days..

In my first year, Sheffield did an event called "The Pyjama Jump". The idea was to raise money by giving £1 of each pint sold to charity. In reality was a great excuse to get very, very drunk. The hitch? All the men had to wear women’s clothing, while the women had to wear as little as possible.

The REAL catch? It was in the middle of November.

I used to work at Toys R Us in Sheffield, and one of the female students there had agreed to lend me a dress – so after work on the Sunday (the event was on Tuesday) we went back to her halls, and I was made to try on the dress in front of all of her mates.. that was when she dropped the bombshell on me..


"Of course, you realise that you can’t borrow this unless I can do your nails…" She said.

"That’s fine – shall I come round Tuesday afternoon then?" I replied.

"Nope – I get to do your nails NOW." She said, forcibly.

"Gulp."…


So, there I am, at uni the next day, busy programming away, when my mate spots my nails.. Of course, I was the laughing stock of the class for the next two days, and it took about a month to live it down, all told.

If only that was the worst bit. I’m sure that my big irony light in the sky’s bulb must have blown, so that I was blissfully unaware of how much worse it was going to get.

There were lots of events going on after the initial drinking session – but they were all ticket only. I didn’t think I wanted to go to one, so didn’t bother waiting around in the 6hr queues to get some. It was the night before that my best mate Ed finally got round to reading my email, replying and confirming that he was going to get his arse over to Sheffield for Tuesday afternoon. We hunted high and low, and eventually found a guy who was selling two tickets for one of the do’s. He gave us an address, and we headed up to his flat – which was in a really, really dodgy area. The huge block of council flats meant we had to travel up in a lift – and it was very grim, let me tell you. Thank god, the guy was genuine, we bought the tickets and got the hell out of there as quick as we could, tickets in tow.

Tuesday night rolled around, and everyone in my house was getting ready. I’d realised the day before that not only did I not know where to get any 2nd hand black stilettos in a size 10, but any one who did have any, wasn’t about to admit it. So, I plumped for using my old converse, as they were the most feminine shoes I owned.

I got ready, and came downstairs, in this lovely, full length black strappy number, with my Converse on. To get the full picture, you have to remember that I used to be exceedingly thin, and in better shape than I am now. My housemates didn’t recognise me.

To complete the picture, the two girls in our house decided that they wanted to do the full make up thing – on me.

Ed had borrowed his sister’s long nightie and tied his long hair in to a pair of long plats. To complete the look, he had a pair of black shoes – army boot style.

We walked out down to West Street, to be met with the sight of 30,000 students crammed on one street. They’d closed the street to all traffic, and the tram service had stopped too (there’d been some idiots earlier in the day who had been Tram ‘surfing’) – so all you could see was wall to wall Students!

We went in to the first bar, and started drinking. It was rammed – it took 30+ mins each time you wanted to get a drink – so of course you bought more than one each time. Everyone was getting bladdered by around 9pm, and that’s when it started to happen. My housemates, one of whom had dressed up like miss whiplash, while the other one was wearing little more than a negligee, started to get hit on by the guys while we were walking to the next pub. And their chat up method was basically leaning over and trying to snog them. Amazingly – it worked.

As we got in the next pub, Ed wandered off to get the next 2 rounds in, and a guy, came over and started to try and snog me! I pushed him away, pointing out that I was a MAN, dammit!

"’ere," said the guy, motioning to his mates, "That bird’s a BLOKE!" he shouted, pointing at me.

As if this wasn’t enough, during the rest of the evening, 4 other guys tried it on with me too..

Eventually, drinking up came around, and it was then that Ed realised that the tickets had gone! They were in his leather jacket, but now they weren’t, and despite desperate searching, we never found them – so instead, we headed back home, for more drink and more laughs..

Keith (It took forever to scratch the nail varnish off, since I didn’t have any nail varnish remover!)

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As I wrote to

So, having spoken to a Counciller friend of mine, I was instructed that if I was going to talk to him about it, I should point out that I was there to listen, and under no-circumstances, offer any advice.

It was the second point that made me feel a whole lot better. It pointed out to me that, indeed - I've never been in a situation like this, or helped anyone in a situation like this before - but it doesn't matter - he's in trouble, and I'll listen to what he has to say.

I made all my other phone calls first. I sorted out potential lifts to the pre-release (I don't drive.. at 25, isn't it shocking? I've not so much as even taken a lesson..), spoke to my GF and even caught up with an old friend.. anything to put it off.. finally - I just phoned him.

Stout of mind, stout of heart - I set out on my quest..

He said he'd been saying to his wife how it would be good to catch up with me again a lot sooner than last time. This made my mind up, but I shelved it, and listened.
The subject dodged forwards and backwards until we had to speak about the inevitable.. and he appologised for scaring me. I pointed out that it was fine - but with a bit of an edge on my voice (unwanted, I was trying to hold it together).

"You don't have to worry.. As long as I've got my wife, I'm still here" he said.

I relaxed. He's a very serious guy, and doesn't do exaggeration..

I told him that I was worried, but that I'd be his ear to unload on, when ever he wanted it - and that since I had no idea what he was going through, I'd never try and give any advice.

We arranged for me to come and visit him and his wife the weekend after this, he's apparently due to get Soul Calibre 2 for GC on that Friday, and he suspects that his wife will get bored of playing it, very quickly... We'll play Magic, and board games, and I'll inflict music on his ears, and we'll have fun.

Lots of fun.

And if he opens up, he tells me. But I'm not forcing the situation - he's got to be ready to come to me.

From the people who responded on here, along with other new blogging friends whom I've confided this to (Not sure why, its not like his Journal is private), it seems that self harm is a hell of a lot more prevelent than I at first thought.

The first I knew of self harm, was a friend of mine at uni, who told me that she used to do it to Maryln Manson records - but she'd got out of that shit when she started to suspect that he wasn't really joking about half the stuff he sang about.. She changed from a 'rocker' to a devout christian.

The next time I heard about it was on Radio 1 - a whole programme was devoted to the plight of one young guy who knew it was wrong, but wanted to hear what other people had to say. The response was so phenominal that they aired another half a show the next week, still on the same subject.

But all this time - no-one who was really close to me ever admitted to me that they were going through any of this - and normally I'm the guy in the group who the others go and 'confess'..

I can only surmise that I'm lucky.

Keith (Thanks again..)

I said that when something troubles me, I'd post it here, rather than on my 20six account.Finally that occassion has arisen.

The following is taken from one of my friend's Journals on 20six. I lived with this guy for about 4 months, and he always seemed really happy.

Here's what he wrote:

[Quote]

When I'm on the bus going to work, I often fantasize that something goes wrong, the bus crashes and is smashed into a sickening accordion of steel and flame. I am inside, crushed, perhaps decapitated by shrapnel or pierced by a metal rod that goes across the top of the seat in front of me, dying a more or less instant death, with pain lasting only moments, if at all.
Call me sick; sometimes I'm sure I am.

I am a coward. I often want to die, but I don't want to die horribly, slowly, in a lot of pain. I don't fear death, but I do dislike and, yes, probably fear, pain. I will often hope for a split second nearly every time I cross the street, that maybe I didn't see a car coming. They zip like maniacs up and down the main road I live on. Especially if it was a big vehicle, I figure, surely I would be killed instantly upon impact. I apologise if these musings offend anyone who had someone killed in such an accident. It is not my intention. For that matter, it is not really my intention to write these things for anyone to read specifically. So if you don't want to read them, don't. And if you do want to, do. Whatever, by now, at least in this category of my blog, I am mainly writing for myself, to get out what I feel.

I am often suicidal, but sometimes more than others. Recently I had one of my worst episodes.

I first cut myself probably close to ten years ago (maybe some of you can reckon my approximate age from that statement, I don't know). I didn't do much damage and I'm not sure I even still have the scars. On and off I harmed myself (usually cutting) over the next many years, not very often though. Until I had the breakdown I've mentioned earlier in this category anyway. And then the harming started up, and over the last seven months, it has been the most frequent, and the most physically damaging of my life.

During the bad episode (about two weeks ago now) I smashed a glass bottle, searched through the hundreds of pieces for just the right one (too small, too big, too dull, no good pointy bits...), and washed the shard thoroughly. Then I rounded up some kitchen towels - I wouldn't want to stain any of my clothes or upholstery, goodness no! - and hid myself away. The piece of glass was about an inch and a half long, curving to two jagged points at one end. At the opposite end was a small tooth of glass at about a ninety degree angle to the rest of the piece, very sharp. The main bit was the lower side of the bottle, and the tooth at the end obviously was just a tiny chunk out of the bottom of the bottle. The piece was excellent, as far as I was concerned: perfectly designed for my purpose. It could be scraped along the flesh using the jagged end, the edges could slice and cut, and the tooth could poke and pierce.

I started on the inside of my thigh, scraping the glass along. Then I moved onto my upper left arm. A series of long, but shallow, gouges with the jagged edge produced a good trickle of blood and, more importantly, a substantial amount of pain. My left forearm sufferred a similar fate, both on the top and the softer underside. And then I decided to do a test, a sort of dry run, if you will. I have cut and scraped my arms a number of times, but I have never purposely gone right for my wrists. But now I decided to. I was feeling particularly suicidal that night.

I flexed my left arm as best I could to make the veins in my forearm more visible. Using the tooth on the shard, I pressed down on the first vein harder and harder until, with a strangely satisfying, and almost audible, *pop*, the tooth broke through the skin and blood began to pour. After examining the wound to try and see just how deep I’d had to go to get to that main vein, I used a kitchen towel to cover it (I was sat on the guest bed and, like I said, I didn’t want to stain anything) and waited for it to more or less clot and stop bleeding. Then I found another vein on the same wrist and this whole process was repeated. Again the pressure of the glass tooth against my flesh, again the exquisite, horrible pain, and again the pleasant *pop* that I half heard and half felt running through me as the glass punctured my skin. The blood gushed again, and I was starting to feel satisfied. Like I said, at the time I was thinking of it as a dry run. I was testing just how deeply and with how much force I would have to cut into the flesh of my wrists if and when I decided to kill myself.

[End Quote]

I'm worried - I've never had to dealt with anyone who has cut themselves before. While i've been living off in my little bubble, he's been really getting himself down.

Apparently, according to the rest of his journal, he's been to see a Psychiatrist, and originally I thought that this was to do with his marriage (he's been up and down with this, apparently).

He doesn't really have many friends at all. Not because he's not a nice chap - he's a wonderful and lovely guy, but because he's an American guy, who met a girl on a christian Chat room, and came over here to get married to her. (There's more to it than just this, but that's the gist). She's not been well, and now has a long term illness.

The problem I now have, is that I have no idea what to say to him, but I know I want to be there for him - I'm one of his only friends that he has in the UK.
So, I'm probably going to give up going to the Pre-release this weekend, and go and visit him instead - but what the fuck do I say to him?

"Hi Andy! Glad to hear everything sucks!"

Just wondering what expereiences other people have with self-harmers.

Keith (Please give me a hand...)

The problem is this - I went about things arse over face. If I had actually thought things through, I would have Read The Fecking Manual first, which would have made me realise that I didn't need an account to syndicate an RSS feed, and in actual fact, syndicating a new RSS feed would be impossible unless I was a paid user - fair enough.

Still, having a LiveJournal account has its benefits - Its the easiest way of filtering theferrett's friend list to people I actually read ;-)..

I was pleased to get koibito007's comment (oh, can anyone explain how to do a quick link to Usernames, btw, otherwise I'll have to plough through the gargantuan FAQ's) - because it mean's she's found out that I'm here. Her's is a blog I do read on a daily basis.

So - what am I going to do with this Blog? I'm going to write things that I wouldn't write on my main blog - I'm going to do my utmost to keep people who really know me away from this blog, as I forsee it being really dark in comparison to my 20six journal.

Meanwhile, and until such time as 20six have finished the new version which does support RSS, I'll point most people to : www.20six.co.uk/kspragg so that you get the day to day mundane-ness that you've come to expect ;)

Keith

Just as a quick thing to post success of my LJ account.

Thanks TheFerrett!

Keith (Would never forego the brackets..)