Dear diary here there be dragons

Last night I dreamed of being a lamp shade a pink frilly one that my grandmother had in her bedroom, what the hell does that mean dreams are odd, I so do miss my teenage years and wet dreams they were something to go to bed for....simplistic times.
As I write I find myself at the age of 45 sitting in my really dirty Ford focus about to start blogging about my life, warts facial hair and all, being able to wright my thoughts down no matter what or where from my amazing smart phone.
Age is weird I am forty five now (I wrote that as a number before now as words which is the right way). I know that I am physically older because I now see my father’s face looking at me from the bathroom mirror but mentally I really don't have a clue, we say that we are children inside but would someone please explain the rules of life to me.
I am making my life up as I go along and that frightens the shit out of me. There are no rules just the human race moving towards an uncertain goal. (What is the goal of humanity as Bill Hicks said to evolve and get the fuck off this planet) all hiding the fact that inside we are all children waiting to be told what to do.

Family history part 4

The street where he lived being a pencil drawing did not bother my grand franchiser, he preferred his next for neighbors to be fictional creatures.

Family history part 3

Grandfather was always fascinated by the idea of witchcraft, many a night he would sit around his black pitted cauldron trying to make a familiar out of twigs and baby fat but all to no avail.

Family history party two

My grandfather loved being in the service, the sense of discipline the tight corsets and the feeling of power over those who were socially below him.
Every day the excitement of the willow cane thwacking against someone inferior to him gave him An erection you could carry logs on.

Hope for this Hero

Things were hard for me when I left the army

my marriage ended badly leading to a brief brief stint in prison (three years two months and six days) I was convicted of torture and self-imprisonment, luckily the manslaughter charge did not stick...it was hard when I came out and afeter spending a year living as an addict on the streets of glasgow with only my dog Skippy as company, I found our lord Jesus Christ and became a born again Christian....he saved me and I was reborn...now it’s been trhree years without the crack and heroin. (Skippy sadly passed away last year) and I am now living with my pre-op transsexual boyfriend Gaynor in a bedsit in Brighton, things have turned around for me now ...please forgive the typing and spelling I lost three fingers to frostbite and the rats while on the streets...