How do you do it? How do you stop acting like a twat?

I can concede that at this moment, my actions are somewhat influenced by a number of drinks consumed so far this evening. Don't get me wrong, I'm not using that as an excuse. But it would be foolish to ignore that factor.

My head is all over the place at the minute. As usual that comes from a combination of college worries and ex issues. The fact that I can't seem to get the latest episode of Lost doesn't help.

I was this (imagine the gap between two fingers of a Kit Kat) close to calling it a night, when I heard my house mates arrive downstairs. Not wanting to be a sad sack, I went down to see what all the fuss was about. A man contest ensued, with shots of vile super strength liquor flowing. Despite the presence of an army boy, I think I did alright for the effeminate skinny geeky lads. I'm still alive and wasting money on online poker. They ain't.

So it's one more hand and then bed. Or as close as, cos I'm in a tournament. I just don....

I just ran into Aces on a steal. Cock it. Fuck the cards and fuck the world that they inhabit. I'm going sleep where no one can beat me. Except a psycho with my house keys.

I've adjusted to getting up at around two. That's not to say that I've been getting up early on a regular basis, just when I have to. But it's something that I need to cut out. Looking at my last post I can deduce that I must have got to sleep at around four or five a.m. but that's still a decent seven/eight hours kip. I need to stick to that as a maximum, I've been sleeping way too much recently. Should my life ever pass before my eyes I'm sure the majority I see will be lucid dreams. I need to start living more. My other problem is that it takes me a good hour to wake up, get out of bed and shower. My life needs more structure I think.

The first way to tackle this I realised last night, was that I need to keep a notepad and pen on me at all times. Really, the amount of information that passes through my brain and leaves no traces or stains behind is alarming. It's only taken three years of a journalism course to realise this, but the first thing I did today was go out and buy a pocket sized pad. I had my heart set on a nice fancy moleskin one, but having little time to shop about I settled for a cheap one from Smiths.

My shopping excursion then took me to Enjoy Boogie Woogie, where to my disappointment they didn't what I wanted. I've been after a waist coat for a while (in a Russell Brand, Jack Sparrow kind of look). The only ones they had were nasty wedding suit types. Not my cup of tea. The charity shops were my next port of call, where I found a very fetching brown velvet suit jacket. There's a few in Boogie that have caught my eye, but they're like £15/£20. Luckily the one I spotted in Cancer Research was a fiver. It's been a while since I treated myself to a jacket. Five pounds? I can spend that in two minutes at the bar.

Anyway, (going off point there) despite not having notepad last night I managed to write (quite eloquently may I add) on the back of my hand to listen again to Giles Peterson. So now I'm trying to do some reading and listening to some sweet tunes from last night. Ah wait, I'm writing this and not reading ought. Christ my head is all over the place. Cam had some fucking strong green.

And I completely forgot why I started this post. I just found a word I didn't recognise in an essay, 'panoply'. I think I'm gonna start a word of the day kind of thing, it can only help my writing right?

pan·o·ply /ˈpænəpli
–noun, plural -plies.
1. a wide-ranging and impressive array or display: the dazzling panoply of the maharaja's procession; the panoply of European history.
2. a complete suit of armor.
3. a protective covering.
4. full ceremonial attire or paraphernalia; special dress and equipment.

Definition nicked from Dictionary.com

I must have spent more time writing that post than I realised. My curry has cooled down because I'm writing this tosh.

I think somewhere between the drinking and smoking, almost passing out and stumbling home; I formulated an evil plan to work all my college projects around DJing and an underground magazine. For sure, I'll have to write some bollocks for another specified market but work is work. Something I'm not too good at. Food time.

Another idea that has been hatched so far is that because I've got such an addictive personality: drinker/smoker/gambler/degenerate hedonist. I can get out of one pattern and into another (like when I started smoking to stop playing fruit machines at sixteen): get high from pulling coffee and cigarette fueled all nighters. I only seem to keep to irregular sleep patterns. Really, you spend one night up until six fooling around with someone and being up writing at gone five doesn't seem so bad.

But as I know, I need to man up, grow a pair and get on with my fucking dissertation. But hopefully in a day or so it'll be the focus off a caffeine induced bender. And I do have to remember that I'm an adrenaline junkie at heart.

For once, I'm glad that for whatever reason it is, I can't format this page to have a title. Too varied and rambling will this post be, I don't think I could tie it down to a few witty words. Please note that because I'm writing this in I.E. there might be spelling mistakes cos I haven't tried to turn it on, unlike the just as rubbish Firefox what does have a spellcheck.

That got a bit geeky, And on another geeky note (why have I started with the geeky? If this should ever be editted, put this not at the start) but, yeah, I got rid of Norton for Avast and all of a sudden Soulseek works again. Good times. I heard a track by this band at a party a few weeks ago and it sounded sweet and fresh, but yet familiar. A week later I find it, purely by coincidence on a blog. So I find the album and then about a day later realise I already had one of their tracks on a mix CD. Well done Cribs, I love it.

So there's the music ad geek news done. I've had another busy one. Despite the fact I've eaten fuck all all day, and am supremely tired after spending the night getting hammered at a gig/club/random 17 year old kid (and his mates) place/gone home with a random girl/gone to the library/drank tea/watched the disappointing England game/talked shit in the pub/Djed at a dead bar that miraculously turned into a lock-in/sat smoking pipes and playing the guitar with Cam listening to Giles Peterson. Yeah, it's been a good one.

I must eat now. Post will continue...

Too much poker for one night. It's not often I'll allow myself to say that. In fact, if I didn't have to go downstairs to get the charger for my laptop I'd probably carry on playing. That's becuase despite the appauling run of bad beats (let me rant about them in due time) I've come out on top tonight.

Now I'm not one to moan, ah fuck it, of course I am. I'm a) a man, b) British and c) a good enough poker player to make himself look like a tit by saying things like "I can't believe he hit his up and down straight/flush/over pair" (although I don't think that many bad players could comprehend that possibility). I've just been feeling the wrath of the poker lords recently with lower kickers hitting, being out drawn by river chasers and my least favourite: having the board higher two pair to give me a shit kicker. And in the last game I just played, I lost count of the number of times three handed I'd get a walk with either A-A, K-K, A-K, Q-Q in the big blind, but find the guy under the gun raise me whenever I held junk. It was like playing on Absolute Poker or something. Really, the two guys I was up against just wouldn't go out. The blinds were at 250/500 and they held on to their stacks of 1/1500 for what seemed like an eternity.

But heaven forbid, I finished the job. It's made me feel good to know that despite the shit that gets thrown at me I can still get the job done. Hell, if my battery doesn't run out before I finish writing this I can check my progress on SharkScope. And I think that's a pretty good metaphor for life considering it's gone 4.30 in the morning. Fuck, I might have to re-read this whatever time I get up tomorrow afternoon to realise it's not all that bad. And sometimes in life I can do what I set out to do. Fuck, that red wine has got me all Disney!